Stavanger Bay Don't give up. Great things take time.

he is stargazing when the scent reaches him, alien and saccharine yet familiar somehow. his golden features twist into a frown as he's drawn from his contemplation, rising almost before he realizes what he's doing. instinct beckons him forward, and he trails the scent slowly, intrigued but reluctant for reasons he cannot name. he knows this scent; he knows what it means, yet the knowledge lingers just out of reach, coiled at the back of his mind.
it does not dawn on him until he sights the dark figure, ears pulling forward as he comes to a halt with a soft chuff some distance off. heat. the season for children is upon them, and the obsidian wolf whose scent he has trailed is fertile. uncertainty floods him, and he lingers at a distance, reluctant to simply walk away after approaching but uncertain whether his presence will be welcome. his intentions are not ill, but he cannot tell her that.