Blackfoot Forest In a World of Shattered Skies

The shadow looked up to the heavens, every star, even the moon, smothered by the dusty clouds which gently spilled the snows the met the earth. Hemlocke fluttered his eyes at the flakes and devilishly pointed ears perked as his call was returned. It was a match of his own dark and mysterious tones, as many wolves were - especially in the twilight. Yet hers was more powerful, less melancholy of his own. 

She had accepted his lonely call by offering him a chance for company. He longed for it, for all his life he had been side by side with family. Yet, he feared it, for she was not his  mother. She was not family, but a stranger. But she was a wolf and a seemingly accepting one at that, company surely far better then the screeching of the foxes, silenced only momentarily due to the sounds of their much larger cousins. 

The shadow slipped forth, closing the distance between them, his heart heavy in his barrelled chest, fluttered. When he could see her clearly, not far, he would pause. Deep burgundy eyes regarding her curiously - her black pelt, those bright icy cold eyes and the bloody cloak which draped her nape. His muzzle dips, offering a silent greeting.