Sleepy Fox Hollow baptisia alba macrophylla

A few things gave Anselm away -- but the biggest culprit was the wind.

He paused as he saw the subject of his attention freeze; it was in the subtle shift of Waxwing's muscles, the way his eyes took a furtiveness to them.

Anselm. Came his reply from the reeds. He stepped forward from the underbrush with a light shake of his ruff. Who are you? By scent and sight he knew the wolf to be part of Paleo, but he had yet to meet him face to face.

After introductions were made Anselm left. He was not a wolf of casual chatter; the borders called for him and he made to them at a loose stalk.