Overture Downs musicals in winter

"aerasha," saarthal repeated lightly, tasting the word on the edge of her tongue. it was a beautiful name, she supposed, suitable for the princess-like wolf, and reminded her distantly of someone she used to know thought that was a thought neither here nor there. "no, i'm not. not really -" she smiled, "are you? you smell familiar. there was this guy i met in a cave earlier. we, uh," saarth bit back the words, lips folding in a smile resembling more of a grimace. "pretty scarred boy. are you in the same pack as him?"