Bearclaw Valley Meet me inside

Now that she was closer, she absorbed the scents and visages of the pair. The stormborne woman with the malt eyes smelled of the earth and trees, but there was little in the way of others on her person. The male, black and stained with copper, was bearing many scars — he was missing an eye and part of his ears — smelled of other wolves, their scents laying faintly on his fur. Orson grinned at the one-eyed wolf. Looking for recruits? Sounds promising, if the pack was interesting enough. Sounds good to me. And since we don't know each other. My name's Orson. She looked between them. Yours? Or would you prefer to keep yerselves anonymous?