Gyrfalcon's Keep Sisters

Vaettir sat in silence after her prayer for a time.
She was quiet and still, a statue in the dark, until the scent of another wolf wafted in on a gentle gust of wind. 

Opening her eyes slowly, the Crone stood and turned her thin body to come to the mouth of the Temple, where a younger wolf seemed to have been waiting. 
A small smile upon the aging she-wolf's face as she looked from Thyra's features to the fawn pelt with her. 
"For the High Priestess?" She inquired in her soft tones; The thought never occured to her in this moment that the deer skin was for her of all wolves here.