Ouroboros Spine midnight science fiction feature

It wasn't long before a pack wolf answered his call, and into sight came a noble-looking man bathed in russets and mahogany. He was a warrior by the looks of him, but an aged one, with telltale greys beginning to creep onto his features. Yet his gaze was still sharp, observing the stranger just as Quentin did before he then introduced both himself and the pack.

Village, rather. How quaint.

"Greetings, what an impressive title," he replied with a wide grin, politely dipping his head low. He did not have much to make his case to the Sunman for a place in the pack, and so thought on his words carefully before he spoke. "As you can see," Quentin began, lifting a foreleg to reveal a scabbing over wound. "I'm in a bit of a pickle here; I was ambushed about a moon back, they took all that I had."

He paused to judge the other man's reaction.