Deepwood Weald Construct my summer home.

She had him hooked without even trying. Dacio, with his gaze never drifting, stretched out his neck to reach out to sniff at a tuft of fur at the she-wolf's throat - where ebony faded elegantly to sandy hues. "Hm," was all he hummed in response, having stopped listening to what she was saying. His focus turned toward what was directly in front of him, ears made useless as he dared to part his teeth and preen at her pelage.