Bramblepoint Lethal poison for the system

With a flourish, Wylla spun around on her tippy-toes, prepared to forget about Redhawk Caldera for the rest of her life (not that her grudges ever worked like that), and came face-to-face with the most strikingly unusual looking wolf she'd ever met. Oh, not to say that there was anything wrong with Galaxy's proportions, and the colour of her fur was orthodox, if somewhat rare in these parts. There was nothing about her physically that stood out save that the younger she-wolf was slender, but larger than herself. Rather, Wylla's sunny yellow eyes met Galaxy's mismatched pair in a splendidly prismatic collision and she found herself mesmerized for a beat.

But when the youth's airy question met the sideways drape of her ears, Wylla blinked and looked away. Galaxy sure had some unusual eyes, but even though she wanted to ask about them, there was nothing Wylla liked more than griping about someone else, and Galaxy had thrown that door wide open for her.

"Entitled pack wolves," she answered, punctuating the statement with a disdainful sniff. Come to think of it, Galaxy smelled an awful lot like other wolves too; even from a distance, the vagabond could detect at least two or three others in the youth's natural scent aura. "That ain't you, right?" she wondered with a quick lash of her tail, upping her side-eye game considerably as she peered down her snipey snout at the slim white she-wolf.