Moonspear someday my pain will mark you

A call from a stranger halted the inkjet hunter’s trek. The swarthy figure drew himself to a stopping place and waited to see the figure who approached. Clinking noises perked his ears. The Ostrega had not heard something like that before and he was curious what the stranger could carry that would make that sound. His sunset gaze burned over the figure of the unknown wolf.

Hello, traveler.

The roughness of his voice was surprising. Atlas shifted his stance, tail swaying once. The approaching wolf did not appear to be a threat to him. It was likely that the wolf was on a journey and had cut across the mountain to find his course. The swarthy hunter waited to see if his greeting would be returned.