Phoenix Maplewood fragments of memory

:3

his crimson gaze which assesses her flatly smolders, unmoved, and his gruff chin lifts.

she is not what he came for, but she isn't entirely unworthy of note.

how many beasts have you met? comes the dark grit of the blackbird's voice, the roll of a distant thunderstorm behind the cage of his bridgework. he blinks, as steam rolls from his nose in a sharp exhale. i am far too handsome to be amongst them. and though his words carry humorous intent, there is none to be found upon his features.

with a roll of shoulders, the wolf moves into the open, paws slicing through thick snow, and allows her a clearer view of him.

your name? blackfell asks with a head slinking slow between shoulders, stationed against his barrel chest, and a cutting gaze towards her, i am looking for a girl. she would be a yearling now, black of fur, blue eyes.