A gentle puff of air came from her nose as Hestia listened to the sable male, called Wraith. At his glance, she dipped her head to confirm his words. After the introductions, Hestia retired to a quiet, observant approach to the pair. She gazed thoughtfully at Greer, slightly tilting her head before letting her eyes stray away.
‘It would seem that every wolf I meet bears Archer blood… perhaps this Greer does as well? He seems to have a personality that matches the other pair…’ She thought, off on a tangent, chuckling to herself. Of course, she had only heard a few words from him – it was unfair on her part to judge his temperament based off of a small piece of evidence. Every wolf that wore a sour expression couldn’t be grouped in with the Archers – she’d only met a couple of them – yet, she was especially wary when meeting others with ornery energies. A slip of the tongue could grant her a few scars, and blood staining her maw. She had no intention to harm the wolves here, unless it was a life-or-death situation…
Backtracking, Hestia thought back to her previous home. Poseidon wouldn’t bother with a mere consideration of this place as his home, nor even try to make friends with the wolves here. He was a happy, bouncy male, despite the hardships he had endured, and for that reason Hestia thought fondly of him. His personality contrasted highly with her own, and although it annoyed her to some extent, she found it kept her going.
Oh, how he could help her now.