Redtail Rise Even flow, thoughts arrive like butterflies

Sylvan was very still as the wolf pressed his muzzle to the grey of his nape. He, too, took in the scents brought by their nearness; the others. The scent of a woman lingered most heavily on him. A mated pair, he assumed, perhaps the alpha pair.

It seemed silence was preferred, so he did not break his. He only lowered his posture further in a show of submission and silent request, finally rolling onto his back when it seemed the man's inspection was finished. Sylvan had travelled for many miles, and it was only the scent of the wilds on his fur now. The wilds, and now the pale leader of this pack.