Swiftcurrent Creek Precious Metals

When Moss turned her heavy head to regard the woman, she showed no pity though she felt it. Beneath all the scars was a wolf who was well beyond conventionally pretty. Her looks were wild, stunningly beautiful Moss thought- appealing to anyone with an eye for natural beauty. The scars did nothing to lessen her radiance, but they did certainly speak of some atrocious battle. Claw marks were indicative of something non-wolf. 

The quietness of her voice and meekness of her waving tail spoke volumes, that Moss read carefully, like pages from a favoured book. Not often was the burly woman moved to be gentle, but in the presence of humility even she could be tamed. She bowed her deeply head in greeting before she spoke. 

”Moss Agate.” 

A new introduction- from a wolf much changed. But she said nothing more, and returned her distant, slightly sad gaze to the distance.