Fairspell Meadow I Would Have Written...

The wolf greets him with a show of teeth and high flagging tail and Massaraq watches impassively. His own tail stills but does not stiffen or straighten upward. He neither averted his gaze from the face of the other nor met his eyes to challenge, affable - offering neither dominance nor submission. He gave instead a greeting. “I’m Massaraq.” A subtle query but he was not uncurious. The stranger, for all his bulk, did not looked untouched by winter hardship and a suggestion of mutual aid was on the tip of his tongue.