Sleepy Fox Hollow 100 Percent Juice

Well, well. Here was a wolf who did not actively disrespect Wylla on her own pack's borders by either posturing or dismissing her, a rarity in her experience, and one who was smart enough to explain what they were up to without any additional prompting. Wylla was not the type of wolf to drop her guard in an instant, but Keen was an impressive visitor indeed.

This, she conveyed with the relaxing of her body language so that her tail ticked back and forth at a languid pace and the tension melted out of her shoulders. There was still a narrowness to her expression, but the chill of earlier disappeared. She even favoured Keen with a very slight upward quirk of her lips.

Shit, that's a name I haven't heard in a long time, said Wylla, clucking her tongue a little. Those memories felt like they belonged to some other wolf's life, not hers. I ran with Diaspora once. They claimed a lake on the other side of that mountain, and she flicked her muzzle in the direction of Shadow Mountain, whose name she did not know. I might be able to answer your questions. Who's your packmate?