Raven's Watch xiv aimagvik

Unfortunately for Stjornuati, the white feathered raven had been on the other side of the forest, picking and scraping through the leaf-littered floor in search of a snack. Had he known the pale man had been searching for him, he would have made his way over posthaste, yet he had been a little preoccupied. That was until the wolf howl went up, calling for the others who were planning to settle among the cliffs.

Curiously, though also taking his sweet time, D'Artagnan leisurely made his way towards the source of the call, hopping from tree to tree before he spied the small gathering of wolves. With a flutter of wings and a low, brooding caw, the raven landed amongst the branches of a tree that offered a top down view of the meeting, and he listened with a tilt of his head as the great white one spoke.

His gaze flicked immediately to the smallest, darkest one. He had not seen her about yet. He knew wolves were picky about others intruding upon their land; perhaps she was a tresspasser? Stjor then spoke, speaking of clans and blessings. Oh. A new member, then? How tiresome to be a wolf, to go through all these formalities in search of a new home, he thought, eyes drifting back over to the little female with a studious gaze.