Moonspear princes who adore you

When a strange voice lifted on the darkling air, Tiuttuk froze in place. She was not yet accustomed to hearing voices besides Alaric’s and Tiki’s, though she relaxed quickly. Pie welcomed the presence of other wolves. The more, the merrier, as the saying went. She supposed it just felt a little odd, not recognizing the source of such a call, though there was a swift way to remedy that.

It didn’t take her long to reach the source of the howl: a strapping male with an ivory undercoat painted in tones of muted silver and gold. His dark gold eyes stood out against his pale features, which looked young to her. Perhaps he was around her own age? She suddenly had a sneaking suspicion, though nothing about her approach gave it away.

Greetings, she said, striding up to him with what she hoped was a humble but dignified air. I’m Treepie. And I like to think I’m a halfway decent tracker.

Her head tipped slightly, a little thread of pain worming through her temple before quickly dissipating. Pie hardly registered it.