Redhawk Caldera none pizza left beef

The light rain settled on his coat in shining droplets, lending Polaris's silver coat a brilliant aspect like the star he'd been named for. He hadn't noticed, though; his eyes were for Peridot, at least in the scant moments between his call and the pack wolf's arrival. She was thinking about something, he could tell, but what?

Before he could linger on the thought, his attention was captured by the tall wolf moving to greet them. Dark of fur and bright of eye, not unlike Polaris's own brothers and sisters. Yet this wolf would tower above any of them. Polaris let his ears lie against his crown deferentially even as he studied the stranger.

The man was cordial enough. Redhawk Caldera, he called the pack: not Easthollow, but then, Polaris had already suspected as much. There was certainly enough stone here, but it didn't match his father's descriptions beyond that. Polaris nodded nonetheless, listening politely.

It's good to meet you, Killdeer, Polaris offered a quick weary half-smile, the mark of a wolf too tired to remember true cheer at the moment, and pressed closer to Peridot. He'd felt her trembling against him. Polaris Stark - and this is Peridot Medeiros. Belatedly he realized Killdeer hadn't used a surname, and only had a moment to wonder how different this place was to Casco Bay. We left our homeland to escape war, and we're looking for... a new beginning.

He cast a brief glance at Peridot as he said it, hope alight in his mismatched gaze. When his eyes returned to Killdeer, his voice was a bit stronger; less weary. I've heard some about the Teekon Wilds from my father, who was born in a pack called Easthollow, but I haven't heard of Redhawk Caldera before. This he offered conversationally, with a touch of curiosity to prompt Killdeer to share more. Easthollow was a tempting thought, of course — but why go chasing ghosts when a perfectly good pack stood before them?