Ankyra Sound the moon, the stars, they have all been blown out

as the sylph circled the ivory wolf, she noted the humility in tunerk's posture - it spoke of submissiveness, which mollified the old crone's body language in turn. there was no scent of drageda on this creature's pelt -- there was hardly any scent at all, save a cold and isolating kind of loneliness.

despite the lingering wilderness in her coat, the youth seemed cheery. caiaphas noticed the gruff inflection of her words - another displaced wolf, from some unknowable pack well beyond rusalka's reach.

glancing around her to ensure they were not accompanied by eyes in the forest, caiaphas withdrew her probing nose and spoke. "and what is tunerk doing here? alone?"