Noctisardor Bypass Raven wings sound like velcro when they fly.

He was not alone for long. The terrain was well marked and heavily trafficked. The wolf was counting on astute guardians being present and when a narrowly built figure made itself known with a raise of its head, Tulimaq made sure to stand firmly in place. He kept his eyes on their shape as they came closer, patient, biding his time while he sought clues about the other wolf and their pack. They looked healthy; perhaps the same age as himself (not that Tulimaq was counting the seasons), with a discerning eye.

When they spoke it was with pride, but he would not have called it arrogance exactly. A certainty inherent to themselves. Such a quality was familiar - many wolves of Tartok were not outrightly boastful but could hold their own in combat or a hunt. The same edge followed this stranger. She called it Legion.

A warm meal, solace from the road, maybe a fight to get the blood flowing. Right now I'd settle for a little company. He watches the woman for any sort of reaction to his list, mostly made in jest. He kept his head suitably lowered by comparison to her own posture, but could not help the idle flick of his tail tip - a sign of friendliness, invitation. Best to get to the point, he thinks.

I am a hunter, warrior, and ranger. Mostly a ranger. But I wish to put down roots. Would your people benefit from such skills?