Sleepy Fox Hollow In Her Heart There's a Hole

He travels to the vale south of his beautiful canyon of red this day. Wondering when another pack will throw themselves to him as the Saints unfortunate wolf next door. Though as he pads through, the trees, full, lush grass, and the occasional shimmering stream catches his eye. Such a cute little paradise next to the arid drylands of the Redsand canyon. The plush grass beneath his sand roughened paws is almost foreign — it feels nice. 

Yet the scenery isn’t the only beautiful thing he seems to come across this day. He takes a few more steps and he’s passing by the fairly large trunk of elderly oak tree when this stranger wolf comes into his vision. 

Instantly he’s curious. Tilting his head and raising a brow inquisitively he dares to step forward, completely showing his massive form to the smaller wolf. He doesn’t assess upon her fast, rather he strides with an almost lazy, yet confident swagger to his step. A charming smile upon his scarred, but still moderately handsome mug. The bridle stretched over his pelt glistening in the light from the sun. Muscles even shift beneath enticingly, his unnaturally curled tail proud — tall. 

He stops a fair ten or so feet away from the shewolf. “And who might you be, darling?” He hums is a smooth voice.