Ravenshook Cliffs moonglow

immm assuming its safe to say ford recruited cortland in their thread

the approach of another quickly draws his attention away from the sky. he turns, immediately recognizing the intention in the stranger's stiff-legged gait. yet he also recognizes the scent that clings to him — the scent of stormrift, of ford. his ears pin to his skull and he flattens himself to the earth, tail sweeping against his frame as he tries to make himself as non-threatening as possible. it doesn't occur to him to run, much less fight; he can only hope the stranger recognizes the pack-scent they share. if not... he's familiar enough with the feeling of teeth rending his flesh. he will endure.