Deepwood Weald and every day, I'd add another stone to keep you safe

The wolf was large at first glance and, through the gloom, slightly imperial in manner. Marruz straightened so that he stood at maximum spread, feeling obligated despite his clear lack of anything more than true height. His eyes probed the stranger dispassionately; hovering across his features with an austere coolness. 

Despite his taciturn appearance, the dark boy's mind was swift in manner. It took no investigation to surmise that this brute before him was Damien - the one that the girl with the raven had referred to as her mate. And while the brilliance of his ivory gaze was startling enough, what caught Marruz's attention was the intricate patchwork of scars emblazoned within the skin of his left shoulder. He could delineate only the pawprint for certain, though he believed there to be a second symbol just beneath or within.

Throughout this silent interrogation of his, Marruz had neglected motion; standing eerily still as though that of some infernal statue. When the newcomer drew close enough, he only lifted his snout to meet the gentle descent of the snowdrifts.

 "You must be Damien," his voice had recently thickened, but no grasps of youth managed to mask the underlying ice in his tone. Nevertheless, he attempted to play a somewhat cordial act, if only to test the waters.