Firestone Hot Springs 'cause i'm through, when the two

Y’var’la caught the faint echo of a howl, its tone low and open, an invitation carried by the wind—a call to the followers of Sólhárr. Her ears pricked, curiosity flaring as she turned toward the sound. The sharp tang of sulfur tickled her senses as she followed the call, a bitter scent that promised warmth if one could endure it.

She arrived at the springs with a slow, measured pace, her fern green eyes sweeping the landscape with quiet intrigue. Steam curled lazily from the water, shrouding the pools in an ethereal veil. The figure of a wolf—dark against the shifting haze—rested within one of the larger basins, his scarlet eyes standing out like embers even from a distance.

Y’var’la tilted her head, a flicker of curiosity crossing her sharp features as she approached the edge of the pool. “Inviting strangers to your sanctuary?” she remarked, her tone smooth and light, though her words carried a hint of challenge.

She paused, letting the warmth of the steam tease at her fur, before adding, “I suppose I can’t fault your sense of generosity. Y’var’la,” she introduced herself with a soft, intentional cadence, the syllables falling from her tongue like a ripple across still water. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

dated forward slightly to when she's officially pledged <3