Ouroboros Spine I just can't build on something that begins like this

Three wolves arrived. The first was a masked man whose coloration reminded her of that loner who propositioned her in the spring, leading to the fight between Mahler and Stag. She found her breath snagging in her throat until she remembered that that man had stark golden eyes, while this one's were soft brown. Their frames were quite different as well, and this one spoke in a drawn voice that sounded very much like how she felt. Little did Wylla know the exact wolf she was thinking of also resided here.

The second was a small and thin boy whose toneless voice was almost as eerie as the atmosphere surrounding him. Wylla couldn't put a finger on it, but there was just something off about Lómion. It was the same kind of feeling one might get in a cemetery, a slinking shiver up the spine that turned skin to gooseflesh. She studied the boy, trying to puzzle it out, and parted her jaws to reply to his rude question, but stopped at the third arrival.

Kukutux's unremarkable appearance was made up for by the scrap of grey fur slung across her shoulders, which stole most of Wylla's attention. She couldn't hide the subtle frown that crossed her tired face. Weirdos, she thought when the woman referred to herself as moonwoman and the pack as village. Together, the trio was pretty unforgettable. But she hadn't come here to judge the residents.

Hello, she said, ears twitching slightly at the crackling quality of her voice. She cleared her throat and did her very best to lower herself before them, even the child. Humble. That was what she had to be here. My name is Wylla. I'm looking for a healer who knows of a killing cough and how to treat it. My mate is very sick. To say it out loud made her stomach feel like it was plummeting over a waterfall. If you know of a healer who could travel to our pack to treat him, or teach me the remedy, I will pay any price.