Black Morass I got Fire in My Soul

His coat was so drenched in clumpy mud that Helen could barely make out the golden bristles under it. Upon hearing her greetings, the he-wolf dragged himself up to her, stopping at a rather thick snake-like tree root. "Hello, maiden. Are you lost?" His voice exuded calmness and kindness. Helen wasn't particularly lost or anything. Maybe she was but she did not need any assistance, for she wasn't looking for anywhere. She simply enjoyed an interesting adventure, as she explored different terrains and forests.

"Uhm, no, but thanks..." she began, before her honey eyes caught sight of the thick stick protruding from in-between his claws. "What's that in your paws?" Helen had always seen that familiar feature grow on elks, but as far as she could recall it never did grow on wolves.