Raven's Watch Mascara runnin’ down her little Bambi eyes

AW but she's looking for @Solpallur, @Stjornuati or both.

She maintained the shadows. Meadow, for all intents and purpose, had survived by such antics and as the Watch became more crowded with each passing rise of the sun, the girl had taken it in from a distance. 

She did not know how to feel about it. The brothers, stoical, silent and feral in most ways, were not one to share thoughts or conversation. Their Kingdom had expanded, and little did-eyed Engi had become merely a forgotten ghost. 

Winter pressed to the silver of her fur, nipping at flesh beneath and reminding her that her days were limited--Sol had called her a survivor. Meadow could argue she had simply existed.

And so she sought them--the reserved manner of either brother for company and to expel her mind and demands. The winter breeze teased at her, but it was not from the cold that gave a small shiver to course her spine. No, it was the flash of rare ire in her gaze as  she sought them--meaning to stake her purpose here.

Frost clung to the trees along the slope where he ranged though the shuffling of ravens above had dislodged some of the glittering crystals onto him. Winter was one of the rare times where he was not entirely dark, for both ice and snow would find their way to settle on him. Perhaps it did not help that winter lent to him a thicker coat to facilitate such, but he had little regard for appearance.

He moved steadily towards the cairn he had been putting together, a doe’s leg bone clutched between his jaws so tightly that it would have cracked had it been any older, chewed, or weathered. The ravens were quiet, used to his presence as they were some of the longer standing among them. They had been littering the site with various trinkets—bones, stones, sticks, whatever caught their fancy to share—and he found this no different as he reached the point he had chosen.

Setting the bone aside with the others, he surveyed the skyward jut of stone off to his side before letting his gaze rest to the valley and ravines below. His skin prickled with uncertainty at all that laid before him, just as unknowing uncomfortable as Meadow was with things. It came together, surely, but now winter was upon them. A poor mockery of a stalemate; though he was comfortable with traveling and scavenging in this weather, he had no desire to try and corral and herd a group.

So it was there that they would have to remain and the respite could have spat in his face.

Her ears slid back to her silver skull art the flutter of ravens above—the ever watchful eyes of the scavengers almost placing an unease on her. Glittering black eyes that harboured judgement—no longer did the she-wolf doubt they watched her every pace… did they report back to the grim brothers and their family?

What was she, cast in their eyes?

Stjournati would have been welcome company, if only for the ease of conversation—but there was a certain sharpness that hitched her breath at the sight of the dark wolf before her, and she watched Solpallur with thoughtful quiet.

Swallowing any doubt she held at what she had come to do, the copper-tipped she-wolf slid forward, her graceful steps near silent as that of a timid doe, despite her best intentions. She did not command presence the way the other wolves of the Keep did—but she would try, if only for this moment that would decide a certain fate within her life.

Her amber eyes were watchful, glittering as they followed the lean muscle of the man before her. And with a brazenness that she most certainly faked, she lifted her muzzle a notch, allowing her tail to flick once through the winter air. “Teach me to fight.”