Lion Head Mesa Switch my whip, came back in black

His greeter spoke with the same frankness, explaining the myriad ways Atreus could punch his ticket for a tour. The last several words in particular captured his interest. He’d never heard it called that—“spymanship”—but it sounded so damn cool.

I’ve done some— Atreus began, prepared to inform him of his tentative forays into roguery when he spotted a figure over the small man’s shoulder.

Even from a distance, the wolf captured his attention and interest, mostly because she looked to be around his own age. She seemed to renege on her decision to approach, pivoting to head in another direction entirely. Atreus saw a flash of dark violet eyes set against her fetchingly pale fur and felt an aching pang deep in his chest.

Who’s that? he asked, not waiting for an answer before raising a foreleg and waving in some inexplicable hope she might change her mind again and come closer.