Fairspell Meadow Gin and kerosene

He came to a stop where the moonlight threaded weakly through the clouds. There, across the meadow, lay the figure he’d been tracking.

Stretched out like a creature at peace, but Samir knew better.

No wolf in their right mind would lounge so openly without an ear turned toward danger. This one was playing at ease, but the flick of his ears and the rise and fall of his breathing betrayed a readiness.

Samir was more than willing to feed into his paranoia. His complex.

A figure, one of ebony and gold, peeled from the shadows that lingered around the very edges of the peaceful meadow. There, his chin tilted ever so lightly upward, eyes washing across the lounging form of the wolf. The stranger's snipy nose and tall ears were a dead giveaway that he was no ordinary wolf.

A smirk curled it's way onto the Prince's face as he stepped closer. The moonlight dimmed again as the clouds rolled over, casting the meadow into shadow. Samir let out a soft breath.

One does hope you aren't afraid of a little company.