Emberwood branch-waving

Ah. A shy one.

Wake studied the man’s profile, drawing his eyes slowly across ear lobe and jawline and throat. He breathed in quiet breaths, concentrating on the cologne of the investigator, who smelled of freshwater pine and miles underfoot.

How inconsiderate of them. He slithered close, casting a venturous look over the rise. The winterwolf peered down at those gathered, the caribou-hunters below. Tsk, tsk, tsk. A disapproving noise to accompany the other’s disquietude. Perhaps they are ritualists. Those who require sacrifice often kill more than they need.

He tongued a long fang. Should I go ask them? His dark eyes flashed, followed by a glance towards the summerwolf, seeking reaction.