Shadewood Unspoken and Unforgiven

Cry smiled warmly in his eyes as the winter fae snowed into their presence with a silent gust.  The most graceful of ivorias, she was a single snowflake with the beauty of a blizzard from afar. And once his glacials were cast across the sea of her sapphires, he had to gird himself from ravaging the delicacy in kisses right then and there. Instead he took her gift, the ease of a slender shoulder against his own, and savored that sip of aged wine while it lasted. 

After his Queen had pulled her own ensnaring gaze from his, she greeted the wolfdog without any form of prejudice. Cry was still surprised, though he hadn’t showed it, that the girl even knew wolfspeak. She must have had a parent who communicated it to her as a child or something. Lucky her - most hybrids are shunned in the wild by wolves, even killed and eaten. 

Forcing himself to his fours, he made good on his word; he would get the girls something to eat while his wife worked. Vocalizing that, “I will return with meals for you both,” the graveled baritones rimmed around the pair before the Phantom drifted off on a swift hunt.