Sawtooth Spire sunlight

her posture flagged beneath his approach, and mahler found that part of him was sated by the display, the minute scatter of small signals that appealed to their shared wolven nature.
at his leisure, the gargoyle exploed scents tangled in her scarlet withers.
the she-wolf was muscled, hale, with no claim to her feral pride. mahler silently appraised her clear capabilities, and when he had quelled his curiosity, the shadowpriest stepped back.
"this is sagtannet. i am mahler, your eisen here, vone of three. and you," he went on, lavender eyes trailing across her subservient posture, "vill be our newest thrall, if you accept."