Swiftcurrent Creek Who do I smell?

The man before him seemed to shake off some nervousness—Akavir continued to study him, unrelenting in his expression, though as a rumbling of consideration was offered in ways of a conversation, his patience began to ebb—his gaze owlish.

It was Arlette’s name and the apt description that gave way to subtle understanding, and with a cant of his muzzle, he shifted his weight, muzzle tilting up, a call summoning either Arlette or @Arric to the borders to visit this guest of theirs—though the latter would likely be unknown to the wolf before him.

When his song died down—he considered a moment—realizing the silence was likely not something the younger man was accustom to. “Your mother is here—she’s our most adept healer and our Beta female.”