Shadowwyn Moor Einn

Rumbling like a coltish drum came from the stranger. She could almost feel the excitement reach her across the span of distance between them like a foamy wave. Regrettably, a conversation could only go so far through such feral means, and she could tell by scent that the charred wolf was familiar with the area: she smelt of the land.

Nevertheless, she found herself entertained. Her head tilted more to the right, encroaching on a forty-five degree angle, to show her curious intrigue, tail still waving.

The mountain wolf wondered: was the fellow dispersal merely playful or actually mute?

Was Arnarkla, herself, mute? She witnessed many moons but could the moons recall the sound of her voice?