Luneshale Pass your body laid out on these filthy floors

finally, footfalls. the smile remained upon fiamma's face as she turned to face the incoming stranger. the luminescence set off little sparks of gold across his dark pelt, and his yellow eyes practically glowed in their place set deep in his skull.

approaching headlights. apprehension imminent.

but he said nothing, and made no move toward her, only looking her over with a familiarity that would have made a weaker woman tremble. as it was, she remained ramrod-straight and steely-eyed, her gimlet gaze at odds with mirthful curve of her muzzle.

it was only after a couple moments that she noticed the litany of fresh wounds cutting through his fur, and the stench of blood and battle hanging around him like a summer storm cloud.

goodness, the rossi remarked, raising her brows. what happened to you?

the nightstalker had clearly seen better days, and she wondered why that was. she could find more than a couple wolves in the collection of scents on his figure; this had been no small skirmish. a battle, then? color her absolutely intrigued.

a bat swooped down with a shriek that split the air between them, wings beating at a frenetic clip—but her attention did not dare wander from the man before her.