Sleepy Fox Hollow i wanna see the way you look up under all those stars

In short order, Wylla was joined by one of the very newcomers she was seeking. Zarya was nothing special to look at, a dime-a-dozen tawny wolf, but her ordinary pelt wasn't what drew the eye. It wasn't her green eyes, either, though surely those could appeal to some man or other. It was the way she limped on a back leg that drew Wylla's attention... and criticism.

Do whatever you want, was her crass response. It wasn't Wylla's decision whether Zarya joined her or not; since the Pionier wasn't about to chase off any company, that choice was solely the Geist's. Not sure what you can do with a bum leg. Get in a fight with a cat or something? she asked, dropping her gaze pointedly to the woman's injury. There were plenty of tasks Zarya was fit enough for, but Wylla cared mostly about physical ones—hunting, patrolling the border, scouting and sparring—and none of those was ideal for an injured wolf.

Before she could say anything further on it, they were met with another. Stag still wore the cloak of youth, though even if he was a year older, his freakishly long legs would make him seem like a gangling teen if he maintained those throughout his life. She almost didn't hear his soft greeting, but when she turned her head to look at him, Wylla did a double take. Holy shit, she blurted before she could stop herself. Was your dad a tree or something? It was kind of rude, but she didn't apologize for it. She'd already moved on to the next phase of her plan... though it was more an improv skit than a plan.

We're going to find some reeds to line dens with, she decided, abruptly lumping Zarya in as well. That was something she could manage with her wounded leg, surely. Coming?