The silver form of Narime would soon slink away – stirring Nios to relax in slight, if only for the certain sign that the pack leader did not believe him to bring harm upon her own. He did not know the story between the two.. if Rory was her daughter, though it made sense – at least in the old-fashioned ways of the Tainn male, where only the leaders held the right to breed a litter.

Feeling less like he was on careful watch, the swarthy male felt himself relax, his bright eyes sweeping over the pallid form of the dove once more. She emanated innocence – the softness of her voice, and the carefully chosen words as she discussed her fear of the crimson moon. He wondered how the world would prepare her for it – somehow, innocence was always stolen from the young.

Perhaps there is a beauty in it, he countered quietly, his own form slinking down to the snow as his stocky swarthy form pressed to the snow. I have only lived two years now, but have never witnessed this before. Sometimes, there is an enticing mystery to the unknown. His eyes lifted toward the sky, studying the blood moon with his own intrigue – he did not hold the apprehension the youthful girl seemed to about it, but he also would not have argued that it was foreboding in a sense.

Whisper Caverns was supposedly making an enemy with the pack in the Cedarwood Forest – perhaps this was a sign on what was to come.