Northstar Vale he is you

He grinned when she swept forth, abandoning her perch in favour of his company. Though there was always the potential for someone to take offence to his presumptuous ways, he was confident in them. Most wolves could tell a good-natured fellow from a condescending one. Though Narcissus could have worn a green hat and bow and led merry men across the realm for his antics, he never did them in poor taste. So glad was he that Xi'nuata saw fit to join him (she was pretty to look at, and being in pretty company made him feel prettier, too) that soft whimpers met her as she drew near. On legs bowed in customary respect, he offered her chin the soft graze of his teeth and tongue; the gentle nibble of a subordinate wolf.

She gestured for him to lead, which took him by surprise. It showed in the youthful shine of his eyes as he looked her over, awaiting a sign that she took back the offer, but she gave none. Narcissus was not a born leader—he was a jester, a joke!—but nevertheless, he seized the opportunity. Most oft, he would follow Anemone, and then Hawthorne, in that exact order... The last of the three to lead was Narcissus, in spite of having all the confidence and nerve in the world. But in hunting, the primal sport of hard-willed wolves, his identical littermates were no match for him.

Narcissus' nose sought the ground once more as he assumed the role of ranger. The scent of game left like a thin perfume over the earth was fresh; no doubt the herd had passed through only several hours prior. They would find them in good time. He picked up a casual trot along the worn trail they had no doubt taken, swinging back his ears to survey Xi'nuata as he addressed her.

"Have you been here long, warrior?" he wondered, naming her by her faction with a tone of reverent respect.