Bearclaw Valley and he sings to me real low

the black curve of thorn's triangular ear pulled back instinctively at the sound of a chuff; he turned around, and standing not so far on the snowpack below was a tall guardian of a wolf helmed in black. he measured her in seconds; she looked powerful and capable - and while young like him, bore the aura of a cunning predator.

she would fit finely with stigmata's band, and thorn neatly leapt from snow-dusted stone to stone, until he had mantled downward and landed with a quiet thud in the snow alongside her. drawing to his full height to shake off the snow he had upended, he realized that treason's height challenged his own.

extending his muzzle carefully, the wild beast inspected whatever part of her pelt she would allow, all the while tensed should she spring upon him for finding his inspection too bold.