Hoshor Plains silver tooth

roan's pace did not falter, though his ears flicked toward the sudden voice, a brow quirking as his gaze settled on the figure that had materialized from the landscape. a dog. strange. too bright, too soft in posture, but clearly confident enough to approach.

he slowed just enough to appraise her, eyes narrowing slightly. a traveler, maybe. maybe something else.

where you goin’? his voice was even, unreadable, as if her presence had yet to determine its worth. he cast a brief glance at synder, gauging her reaction before returning his attention to the odd woman.