Spotted Eagle Mountain Sad nights linger through the blackness of a hound.

As the look on her face gradually receded and her usual sunken, sleepy expression took over again, she flicked her tongue out to gather a wad of plant matter off her chin, then emphatically chewed and swallowed. The entire time Stryx did not take her eyes off the other wolf.

He looked healthy, and large, and possibly threatening—except for the sheepish expression on his face.

You make a habit'a scarin' folk? She comments dryly, turning to properly face him as she staggered back to her full height; he was still so much larger than she was, but the spiking of her fur helped a little to even things out. Irritation was plainly wrought across her face by this point.