Neverwinter Forest i open to the sound

rasalas feels the weight of physical exhaustion in the ache of his muscles; in the instinctive desire to find a safe — as safe as could be in neutral territory, anyway — place to bed down. mis-matched gaze casts 'round the familiar forest of his childhood without affection. perhaps once, had his life turned out different, he might've grown to see neverwinter as his birthright. hierarchy was important, as social creatures they craved it ...but in allusus it was constantly shifting; changing and morphing as wolves challenged, rose and fell within the ranks.

rasalas never participated; too young to be taken seriously and during his first stint with them too scared, malnourished and injured. the second stint, he simply was content to sit back and watch; ride each regime shift out.

birthright was a lie.

a soft snort pushes from rasalas' black leathery nose as he keeps his pace; steps pausing and muscles pulling taunt beneath his orchid grey pelage as he realizes he is not alone. an imperious inquiry held within the bark given to him and mis-matched gaze locks upon the other yearling. a stranger. rasalas' nostrils flare and his hackles bristle with uncertainty. he eyes her coolly, a challenge to her assumed authority on neutral territory, if that was how she chose to saw it.

he did not bow to any — least of all another ( he assumes ) loner.