Altar of Twilight Without a Trace

His emotionless yellow eyes traced over every detail of the landscape below. How the tree line was formed and where the open areas lay. Where there were signs of tracks, if any at all. Or if the snow had even been disturbed in the slightest. What he didn't see was life.

Until movement out of his peripheral vision caught his eye. The stark white fur belonged not to an arctic hare or a fox, but of another fellow wolf. Slowly, Yanna turned, as if not taken by surprise in the least. It was really just his natural reaction to most things, except when it came to battle. With his profound lack of humor, his demeanor came with the tendency never to get too worked up. Rarely, would he show outright enthusiasm in any form. He appraised the other, tracing his eyes over the network of scars all the way to his mismatched eyes. "Good evening." He offered simply, with a tip of his chin.