Jade Fern Grove pilot

listen. evenfall hears footsteps, not his own. he turns, and she speaks.

smell. the wind carries her scent closer. she smells of others, a pack.

look. her fur is a cascade of stony greys with a single dark line down her back. she carries herself almost haughtily, with a conviction evenfall had seen only in the most pious of his kin. when she exhales, a puff of steam rolls from her nostrils. she keeps her distance, eyes on him, watching.

feel. the sun-worshipper feels the dampness in his mouth when he opens it to speak. as are you, he observes.