The Heartwood I miss the rough sex, leaves me a mess

Dreven heard the call that came and with determined steps he lumbered towards the border. Brute body brushing past the ashy branches. Ash and grit stirring up to coat his brown legs and paws.

He managed to get to the large white she wolf riddled with scars as half as him and dipped his muzzle. She wasn't on their borders and her scent smelled of Alduin's once upon a time. He had smelled it lingering on the brute's fur.

Hello.

He tilted his head looking through the newly forming scab over eye and face. You've called the Forsaken.

He almost added pretty one, but realized that she was probably not one to flirt with, though he thought of it. Apparently he had a thing for white wolves.