Firefly Glen they say no one is living here
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All Welcome 
set at night

It was difficult to disinterest the willowy prince; that had to be known. He was the type who was so genuinely interested in everything that it would have taken a near miracle to find a subject that he could not completely envelope himself in. Even the earth was an astounding thing – beautiful and composed of savagery just as much as it was of beauty.

Though he was sheltered in his life and the life he had lived before in the Roseweald, there was an ancient knowledge within him. It was the mind and soul of the kings before him. The reverence was something that could not easily be taught, but was something he had been lucky enough to find.

The field was stunning, and he walked slowly through the vast expanse of brown grasses and high brush. Once or twice, he would slide his thin frame against the leaves and feel them wither away from his touch. On the third time he had done this, a burst of fireflies scattered into the air. Cavendish gasped softly, peering at their bright light as they drifted upward – bobbing and rising.
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Maybe it was not wise to walk the grounds of Firefly glen again, since the last time Wraen had done this, it had all gone down the wrong way. However, a chance for a good meal during a month, where food was harder to come by, was hard to overlook in the face of old territorial conflicts and grudges. Earlier that day she and @Maia had hunted mice on the fringes of this land and they were in no rush to leave the area now. As long as it sustained them, they would remain. Or... as long as none of the Moonspear wolves were aware that they were here in the first place. 

That night she had caught a whiff of a muskrat and wishing to surprise her sister in the morning, Wraen had got up, careful not to wake her sibling, and went after the animal. The hunt had been going good and well, the trail was fresh, when a movement and a flash of several little lights across the fields caught her attention. She paused in her tracks and narrowed her focus on the dark form in the distance. It could be anyone, of course, but she sincerely wished not to run into any of the Cerberus. Or all three for that matter.
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Cavendish was, perhaps, the furthest thing from the Cerberus. He was a stranger, and he had not yet realized that his kind did not belong among the wild wolves. Still, the willowy creature was there. Something within him had urged him to remain in the strange world. Perhaps, it was that he had many things to learn there. And then again, he may have had something to teach as well. 

Were it not for the glimmering fireflies that hovered in the air, Cavendish might have seen the slate hunter. Instead, he seemed to think that he had conjured an ancient magic. This delighted the dark hound. Cavendish rose onto his hind legs and stretched the length of his frame toward the floating lights. He could not hold his balance that way for long, and dropped back to all four feet. Once on the ground, he spun in a perfect circle and finally latched his sights on the stranger in the glen.
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The dark figure was not aware of Wraen's presence, giving her time to observe him properly and come to a conclusion that, even if it was related to Moonspear wolves, it must be the black sheep of the family. What struck her the most, were the odd proportions of it's body - very long limbs and tail, small, oblong head, slender frame. It was taller than an average wolf, but felt more fragile as well. It reminded her of a fawn, a weird one though.

It's interest shifted from the little lights to her and Wraen had to make a decision between fleeing now or remaining, where she was and playing the game of "who outstares whom". She decided for the latter, fixing her gaze on the stranger and giving a faint wag of her tail.
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Fragile, he was – Cavendish was like a glass figurine set atop a very high shelf. It seemed that all it would take was one foul move and he would tumble to his end. By that same stretch of the imagination, though... he had survived, hadn't he? The willowy creature had lived and thrived in his own setting. Roseweald Hollow had made him into a good man, and that was all that he could have ever asked for. In time, he might have made himself to be more than just a good man. In time, he might have become stronger than what he was.

Time would be the only thing that could tell.

“Why, hello there,” he called out to the female after several long moments of watching. His tail wavered between his hocks and his thin frame seemed to sway with it. Cavendish had thought that her soft wag was a sign of good intention. After all, he had not really crossed paths with someone who had ever had ill-intentions and didn't look it. The slender prince waited to see if the sweet stranger would return his call.
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The dark ghost took Wraen's gesture as a welcome and soon was standing before her. She did not reply to him right away, staring wide-eyed and mouth-agape at his peculiar form, which looks even more otherworldly than before. He is taller than her and makes her think of an old story, where a god creates all animals out of clay and breathes life in them. If this were a case, then her best guess would be that the god in question was in good humour and had decided to improvise a bit more after creating other canids. 

"Hi... hey!" she said with an unsure smile. "Forgive me asking, but, what are you?"
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What was he?

Oh, goodness, Cavendish felt utterly useless to these wolves who all seemed to ask him the same thing. Perhaps it was just their way and he was far too much of an outsider to understand that they did not know creatures like him. It was a biological question that they were asking, but the willowy hound was not entirely capable of answering it. He felt an utter fool for having to evade such a direct inquiry, but he knew no better. It was not in him to answer such things; he simply was what he was.

“Oh dear, I do believe I'm rather poor at answering this query,” he informed her in an apologetic tone. The lean figure dipped his head regretfully and breathed a heavy sigh. “I am... a royal of Roseweald Hollow,” Cavendish then decided with a curling smile and a confident nod of his slender skull. Surely, that was what she had meant when she'd asked. Perhaps they knew of his people, or they had heard of the great things his brother had accomplished while serving as a knight to his home.
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"A royal?" Wraen repeated, expressing her surprise. "Now, you are the first I encounter." Well, it could be (and possibly was) that they understood different things both by the term "royal", adn that the guy, in fact, did not belong to any blue blood family. On the other hand, if she had to choose between an alien weirdo wolf and a royal, then the latter was the obvious choice. 

"Do tell more," she inquired, sitting down and deciding that, since he still acted in a somewhat canine way, he could be considered a fellow brother of the kin. Until he proved otherwise.