Whitebark Stream then you can't have me at my morning glory

Anokhi looked up from her trail and examined her companion. He wore a pelt of cream and gold, carried himself with a stature to rival her own. She admired his light eyes with a soft sigh and wondered what they might have been hiding. 

Who're you? the waif asked. He held a slight resemblance to her own tribe; though the colors were somewhat uncommon, the wave of his fur was familiar. Anokhi turned her attention back to her chosen scent and continued to follow it, assuming he would do the same.