Wapun Meadow the nasty words of a hateful song

Donovan can’t help but watch the way the moon bounces off of the raven male. Then as the smaller stares at Donovan, his own interest is piqued by the widening of his solo pupil. That’s a good sign then. A better sign than Donovan could’ve hoped for. This even confirms his suspicions when he answers the brindled male with a throaty reply that betrays other emotions settling inside the coy-wolf. 

It is a place of teeth. Is his answer and Donovan unconsciously flicks a black tongue over his whiskered lips. Then the male is continuing onward and he can’t help but follow closely behind. So Donovan listens intently to the remainder of his speech. Describing a pack that is secure in their ways, uncaring of what others think, and most of all savage. Donovan would be daft not to snag an alliance with such a pack, with such a man — a leader. 

“I would say our stars are aligned then.” He says lowly, gazing down to the male beside him. “I like the sound of your pack. My pack is much the same, though with our small numbers, we have to pick our battles carefully.” Then canary meet fiery orange. “I’m sure you’re a worthy opponent in battle.” He almost wants to spar with this mysterious man.