Luneshale Pass --the overture--

the feather, clutched.

spiked tongue feels the small red hairs, mind satisfied. 

the croon draws attention. the wolves are talking about them. the cat knows when they are adored, and so after arching once more against the one called a priest, they approach the second.

younger. soft. a wolf, but a wolf who looks at them with round eyes and offers gifts.

the cat is cunning. they lie down upon the sand and flash a hint of their belly, their chest with its white patch.

they know they are beautiful.