Blackbeak Bluff ullus

she was precise, firm, accented. "i am," he answered, for it was the truth. "but i do not intend to greet you with violence unless you cause it to be necessary." on equal footing, the soldier drew closer, lifting his nose to take her scent. "you are alone?" artyom was not near at hand, though surely more available than anyone this loner could call to herself.

"germanicus, of whitebark," the man grunted in the next moment by way of greeting. the hushflower glow of his eyes remained on the she-wolf.