Blacktail Deer Plateau Put money in my hand

Valtýr's breath turn to frost against the velvet sky, the moon looking down upon the barren wood. Wet, molten eyes glanced skyward and suddenly the youth became lost amidst his senses. The crisp air upon his nose... the bite of cold snow against his brackish paws... Winter was a new experience for the halfling, who had been born last summer. So much had changed in that short time, but Valtýr couldn't shake the sentiment akin to being adrift at sea. Only recently had he become acclimated to the Plateau, but still he shied away from the more dominant wolves. The orphan was the lowest rung on a long ladder — a fact he often reflected upon.

So absent was Valtýr that the crunch of snow beneath footsteps barely registered. It wasn't until his guest spoke that the teenager realized she was there. His heart sipped a beat from her abrupt arrival, slipping betwixt the roots like an adder. The Sveijarn's figure sunk into a hunched and submissive pose, line of sight lowering in an obedient manner. He could tell she was silver by the color of her paws... but any other features eluded him for the time being.

"Hi," the boy responded, voice soft. A moment passed, expression uncertain. "Am I... in... trouble?" Why else would the she-wolf seek him out? Did that bark belong to someone else? Had he broken a rule? The adults usually left the adolescent alone to his own devices, and so Val questioned what was needed of him now, not realizing a little intervention would be to his benefit.