Ouroboros Spine The city of the moon

The wait was filled with air that ruffled the warrior’s coat and carried fragrances that he had never smelled before. The numbers within the pack were strong, from what he could catch at the edge of their claim. That was not counting any youth who may have been tucked into a safer part of the territory.

When a member of the group did approach at the border, Foxfur regarded him with a shrewd squint of his brown eyes. The man was large, brutish in his build, scars had ripped open his flesh and healed over pink. He walked in a cloak of pale fur and issued a chuff of greeting.

Good day, white warrior. I am Foxfur of the Starsea. The weary figure bowed his head slightly, unwilling to bend so low that he removed his eye from the stranger.