Grouse Thicket Sun it rises

A bold voice cut through the natural sounds of the thicket. The warrior paused and drew his narrow snout upward, sniffing deeply to bring the scent of wolf – lone wolf – to him. Blinking tiredly, Foxfur set his dusty brown gaze on the approaching shape.

The figure was athletic and sharp in appearance, even if a bit bold in approach. The warrior regarded him with a wary stare and a frown that suggested he was both guarded and mildly unimpressed.

It is I, Foxfur, warrior of the Starsea. I seek a runaway boy who deserted his duty.

Foxfur’s voice was rough, melancholy in tone, and quite tired. The brown of his eyes searched the stranger’s features as his body took a naturally defensive state. I do not wish to fight you, but if you insist it.