Blackfeather Woods The 9th degree

She was troubled as of late. A missing Decima, the low rumbles of the earth, new faces coming and going. There was so much to do. What had awaken in the wolves when the earth had woke too?

The Morta was given no time to dwell on it as she was met with sound a howl. A frustrated rumble built in her chest as she pushed herself onto long legs. It was unusal for her to do such but she took her time for a few beats, enjoying the silence of the woods before she met whichever stranger stood upon their doorstep today.

It was a mere child that stood there — and should they have any guardians she could spot them right away. Her tail lifted ever so slightly to signify her position as she gazed down upon him. What need?