The Sentinels a winged victory for the sullen

The sound of a stranger reached him before he caught sight of the golden clad figure. For a moment, he'd bristled and lowered his skull to protect his throat. When the second chuff was issued, he forced himself to relax. The moon glittered overhead, and he thought the coloration of the stranger was remarkable. It seemed as though the other was cloaked in light from the sun, and the titan wondered if this was the type of spirit his mother had told him of. It would have made sense how she could have spoken so fondly of them - if they appeared as bright and ethereal as this one. It was not until the stranger drew closer that the warhound was able to collect a scent. Still a stranger, but one of flesh and bone. With this, Ford allowed the fur along his back to rest as well as it could. He created the image of a welcoming thing. 

You spooked me, the hound admitted in a smoky tone that reflected good humor and amusement. With a careful smile, the titan roamed the figure of the golden boy with his gaze before settling on his face. It did not seem as though the stranger had any harmful intentions. Perhaps it's the setting, he ventured with a short gesture of his muzzle to their surroundings. The wood was not truly frightening, but Ford felt as though he needed to excuse his initial reaction. He was about maintaining the appearance of a good man, whether that was truthful or not.