Whitebark Stream the white wolf

the man is taller than she. broader, muscle rippling beneath his sleek pelt. ishmira lifts her chin, unafraid, and takes a step forward— wary only of the bird upon his shoulder. for if he had intended to harm her, he would have done so already.

“and i don’t suppose you can teach me? with those paws and that damn bird, i’m stunned you haven’t deafened every creature within a mile.” she rescinds, taking a cautious step back as the bird moves. creepy little thing.

perhaps she should not be poking the bear, so to speak, but ishmira is a girl used to getting her way. and she is not particularly fond of being scolded.