Hushed Willows the hawk does not fear you, boy, and the hawk never will

it hadn’t taken long for someone to approach the edge of the willows and greet him in a kind tone. the boy peered at the stranger on the other side of the border. his gaze was held respectfully low. he did not wish to cause war to break out with any of the other nearby packs. the young ghost felt a washing sensation of foolishness; he’d never even heard of the pack that she belonged to. yet, there she was on the edge of a perfectly marked border and speaking the name of her claim: elysium.
 
“mmm, my name is illidan and i’ve come from the pack on the coast – rusalka,” he offered her with a quick bowing of his crown. as he drew his gaze back upward, the young ghost caught the scent of her. it was not something that he had ever experienced before, so he could only think that she had done something to cause herself to smell that way. “i used to live on the plateau over the mountains,” he gestured with a swing of his muzzle, “but they’re gone now. i was wondering if any of them sought a home here.”