Dragoncrest Cliffs trick or treat, smell my feet

Okay, Sobo, he thought when a summoning howl sounded over Sapphique, petrifying him in place. Ya can do dis. He chanted that several times in his head, but ungluing his paws from the ground was a whole other matter, and not on account of the mud. It took a great deal of convincing himself that nothing bad was going to happen before he was able to force his legs to move. When they did, it was wooden and awkward.

That was how he arrived before the group of travelers, stiff as a rod. One could almost mistake him for an over-zealous border guard on high alert, if not for the way his knees knocked together or the anxious tension on his brow. He gulped hard, throat bobbing visibly from the force. There were so many of them! Why were there so many of them?

He scanned the small crowd, eyes landing longest on the ruddy youth, although Caracal stood nearly as tall as the pair of adults. His sharp angles gave away his younger age. He looked then to crimson Reyes, knowing next to nothing of this wayward sibling, then finally to Teya. He sucked in a deep breath and fidgeted. How were his mothers and Mireille so confident meeting other wolves? This was terrifying!

But he remembered Haunt and how he had never found the confidence to speak with her and knew he must overcome his timidity. So he drew another breath and said, Dis be Sapphique what do ya want? all together in a nervously brusque tumble.