Blackfoot Forest Lost behind the fading light

Another wolf appeared in the corner of Wake’s gaze; a pale specter of the woods glided to Etienne’s side. Though this newcomer appeared familiar to the other wolf, the Creeker seemed to shy away from him—perhaps embarrassed by the comfort—and the winter naga watched the pair of them carefully for anything to prey upon.

Wait… was that a glint of jealousy in the nameless snowheron’s eyes?

What a splendid look! Sublime! An excellent gift for his starving ego; it warmed his sinful heart to see it. Now suddenly this mournful occasion was one of fond memory. And though not expecting to find such a leer in this moment, he’d seen the green eye enough times in his brothers’ and cousins’ and colleagues’ eyes to know the look on sight.
 
His ears flicked at Etienne’s description of the missing boy, and he laboriously dragged his thoughts from its vainglorious mountain to catalogue the narrated features for future use. If such a boy crosses my path, I know where to bring him.

Wake looked to the distrustful one. Are you of the Creek also?