Northstar Vale I don't mean to be guarded, I don't mean to be rude

Beneath a tree, in the dirt, there was a large ginger wolf with many battle scars upon his body.

Antigone watched from a short distance. His eyes were fixed on the man, the way his muscles moved, the way he stretched himself out in the dirt. The young man was uncomfortable by the ability. He wasn’t fond of dirt, of grime, or mess. He saw no reason for this behemoth of a wolf to take peace in the earth upon his belly, messing his coat. Antigone’s tongue felt dry and heavy in his mouth.

The young wolf drew nearer to the man. He kept a reasonable distance. There were some similarities with his father. Arsenio was handsome, though. This man was… not.

Who are you? the young Galanis asked sharply of the peace-seeker.