Hideaway Strath [m] i'm spiraling, i'm sinking down

Kyn has been so insanely preoccupied with his pregnant, now not so pregnant wife, that he didn’t even hardly notice the presence of a new blood in their pack. He had caught the scent a few days ago and at first he suspected a stray wolf had wandered into their pack lands, until he caught Nyra’s scent on what appeared to be another male.

Now, he moves to follow the scent once more and investigate further. With Simmik lying peacefully with their pups in the den, he excuses himself to go find him. He easily tracks the scent around the territory. It takes patience, but finally it seems like he’s found him. 

Before him stands a smaller wolf with impossibly huge ears. They make him look more like a fox than anything. Kynareth assumes he’s a coy-wolf based on his own experiences with how they often tend to look. His pelt is a deep chocolate with a pale underbelly and he has soft, yet defunded features. To the Grandmaster, he seems fragile. A thought that makes him smirk. 

With that, Kynareth’s heavy paws thump against the ground as he approaches in a lazy, unhurried saunter. His head level with his shoulders he fixes his own golden gaze on the smaller wolf before him. He can’t help the smile that deviously curls his lips upwards.

“Oh? So you’re the new blood then?” He asks, the deep baritone of his voice undeniably attractive as he hums the words. “What’s your name?”