Neverwinter Forest the gnashin' teeth and criminal tongues

The world did not disappoint her, and Andalusia was convinced as long as she lived, it never would. The moment her parents had let her paws strike the ground beyond the pack border, she'd found herself smitten with the wonders of the vast and dangerous world that quickly unfolded before her. She'd taken the arrow of wanderlust with arms stretched wide, many times over, and that was enough to earn her the name of an Ostrega. Yet for every ounce of desire she held for the art of travel, Andalusia had taken the arrow of kinship all the same. There was a vigour in the life of an outrider far beyond anything she'd felt at home, but there was also an inexplicable loneliness. Where one could curl up under the night sky, surrounded by the shimmering bodies in the sea of space, and still feel the emptiness that came with longing, and one would simply miss. She'd given solo life a chance, but in the end that longing had guided her home, and when she found her quarry had departed, that longing had guided her here. If at least one of her siblings was looking for her, then she was intent to find them.

The calculation in her gaze never wavered, but she let herself soften with Ciervo's shifting mood, and she turned her head. She found him a tricky one to navigate - she always had - but she liked to think she'd learned him enough to understand his unspoken implications. Now was no exception. Though his words suggested she move on from here, there seemed a subtle want for her to stay, and Andalusia seized this with every ounce of brazen in her claws. "I hadn't decided. Thought I'd continue my search North." Unable to help herself, she quirked her mouth into a crooked grin, and her eyes lighted again. "Don't think you can loose me that fast. I'd stay forever for my dear Bambi, stinky bachelor den and all," she teased, and butted her head against his shoulder in jest. She wanted to stay, maybe not forever, but as long as he would let her. To feel the warmth of a familiar body beside her own, the kinship of a brother: the life of a loner was no life for a wolf. "And if you don't want me anymore, you can keep me as an air freshener. You know I've always smelt better than you." She rolled her shoulders, as if her mud caked paws and dirty fur were a testimony to that.