Shadewood After all this time.

Artok sniffed out the stale scent trails that colored the wood, but he kept his body tight and ready to spring should he knew too. He was an old man, yes, but he was not yet dead. And he would fight until he couldn't anymore if he must.

Artok had heard a howl earlier, but had ignored it, it had been too far away to cause him much grief.

Artok heard a noise and he turned swiftly, eyes piercing into the young girl in front of him. He didn't growl, but his hackles rose, and he stiffened, golden eyes taking in the femme in front of him. A deep awning pit broke apart his insides and he stared at the she-wolf. She was familiar, but why he couldn't say, she reminded him of a wolf he had known  years ago. The language that rolled of her tongue surprised him, but he couldn't understand. Perhaps sometime he would have, but his lessons from childhood were long lost.

She was smaller than he, a little ice storm femme with pretty green eyes. Hello. He  murmured quietly, his voice carrying as it always did.