Arrow Lake falling down a rabbit hole

He crept closer – darkness enveloped in the skin of a wolf, and yet the symbol upon his missing eye was a mystery to her. Her thoughts strayed to Lecter – what would the shaman make of the beast before her? Should she, in turn, attempt to shift past him and flee?

Yes. But Lethe was not the fleeing kind, and as the male prowled even closer still, she tipped her muzzle up, welcoming the shifting distance between them. His statement was answer enough, and an inhale of her quivering nostrils would indicate that the Vale was where he was from – a scent of earth and open air. She did not know where it lied, nor would she question it. Her own suspicions would have unleashed to any who dare question more of her home, after all.

“No,” she responded, agreeing with him. She shifted then, hearing the dull groan of the ice below her as her creamy paws massaged the cold surface. “I am from the Creek.” And likewise, she offered no further information – the full name of her home remained upon her tongue, while the vague notion that he was from the Vale aided him. Her eyes would flicker curiously to his cheek then, not glancing him to the eye, though wary should he not offer the same respect – she would not challenge him, but nor would she accept a challenge to her own dominance. She was not domineered by a male – not unless he fulfilled her somehow.