Neverwinter Forest Scratch scratches, fire starts with matches

Harlyn reacted in kind, but Sialuk didn't allow any tension to develop. Her ears fell back and her shoulders slouched down, aided by Harlyn's admission that she followed only to know her. Sialuk was social herself and understood the desire to know those she ran with, but hadn't expected it to be a quick process. Mordecai and Sitri were those she was familiar with, and she couldn't recall the name of the dark-haired man whose scent intermittently criss-crossed the borders. All others were unfamiliar.

Sialuk stepped closer to Harlyn, letting her head bow down with every step, until she was close enough to kiss her. Naturally, the Arctic wolf didn't pucker up her lips; rather, she unabashedly reached out to bump her muzzle along the female's own. In doing so, she collected Harlyn's scent upon her fur and distributed her own on a dark cheekbone, so both could later remember. Her throat rumbled lightly, more of a croon than a growl, as she pulled back.

"I am Sialuk," she said to finish the greeting ceremony, assuming Harlyn hadn't ran for the hills yet. She didn't ask for Harlyn's own—she wouldn't have been bothered by the lack of name, for Sialuk often devised titles for others anyway—but preened her ears forth, waiting for instruction or anything else the agouti would might say.