Hushed Willows A Silent Retreat

Wake froze at the voice, muzzle snapping in its direction. He was not a wolf easily startled, though his eyes fell wide upon the pale figure, surprised to see another there.

She was a diminutive thing, most of her white as pure snow. Her eyes, sunken with exhaustion, were a color akin to the softest stormclouds, warily regarding him even as she addressed him politely. Her muscles had tensed in readiness, though his hawkish eyes noted the way she trembled with the effort. What a poor, precious, little thing, his blackheart hungered.

The winterwolf dropped his catch and swept his tail up into a wag. Ave, and my apologies. I did not see you there. Wake took a few steps back with the hopes of minimizing the threat his very presence naturally presented. He even left his meal temptingly wide open, should she prove to be a snake herself.

I am Winter’s Wake, he introduced himself with a small incline of his muzzle. Who might you be?