The Heartwood drifting somewhere between map and maelstrom

The boy—for he was still young-looking—explained that the fire was old. Grezig relaxed a little. She did not need the worry of a fire to thwart her plans for the pack. “That is good to know.” She sat down and studied the male. He had a dark head, like Illidan, but his eyes were icy blue. A strange color. Most wolves grew out of their blue eyes as they aged. She wondered if he could see properly but didn’t feel it appropriate to ask. “I am Grezig,” she said, for lack of anything else to say. “You are?”