Noctisardor Bypass Blasé and lucky tonight,

“Our”. A peculiar word, for a wolf who detested sharing. He leveled Druid with a long gaze. She knew his mother and father. She knew who he was. 

Yet, he could not place her face for the life of him. 

Unsettled, Anselm shifted away. Vhat do you mean, ‘our’? His lips curled - was this one of his siblings, rebranded with a new name? She didn’t not look like his parents; robed in the same austere grey. The eyes were wrong, though. He struggled to remember the descriptions of his older sisters — was this Tiercel?