Ankyra Sound And What if I Fly? (Trigger Warning)

The fiery sun bounces off the agouti pelt she bears; the browns becoming scarlet, the creamy white shifting into golden yellow. Then those soulful cobalt irises are what catch his attention next, the twinge of fear riddled in them makes him laugh internally. So weak.

Then she speaks and he’s surprisingly enthralled by the smooth voice that sings into his ears. “Daughter of Minerva.” A pause. “Healer of Whitebark Stream.” He parrots slowly. His eyes still hold malicious intent but he relaxes his face of the intense expression he previously wore.

“So you’re a pack wolf then.” He comments smoothly, after she’s confessed where she’s from. Then he audibly chuckles, the laugh rumbling his muscled body. “You’re not wrong, dear. I’m not like any wolf you’ve ever met; I’m better.” He punctuates his sentence becoming just a few steps closer. Expression still lax enough to not seem horribly suspicious, he laughs quietly now. “Call me, Donovan. At least you’re not dull. You’re right, I’m not a wolf. Or a full one at least.” He rumbles back.