Bramblepoint This is growing up

She hadn't expected the face he carried - but perhaps she should have, since there hadn't been any wolf she'd come across yet that she didn't like the face of. He seemed older than herself and the wolves at the Glen - something in his eyes, as they always seemed to say. They reminded her of when the sunrise would hit mother's fur in just the right way.

A stifled laugh danced from her lips, and she ducked her way under the final arc of brambles that separated her from Phox. "Glad to hear that's the only thing I smell of," she replied with a smile, even as her thoughts lingered more on where he said he was from. It wasn't the first time she'd heard the Caldera mentioned... and she knew, if Jasper were here, he would have prodded the man for every lick of information about these wolves who lived there now. Dhalia, however, simply offered her name, "Dhalia Rochester-Ostrega -- of the Glen," and tucked away her questions until she knew she wouldn't break down, "your nose wasn't wrong on that."