The lull in activity has little effect on the forlorn stranger, caressing the copper flanks akin to the heated, tender lover when expressing frigid and malleable affection. The isolated lupine continues its steady trek through the eye of the storm, the myriad of coppers and browns that encompassed the wolf's fur tossing about with near life-like intensity in the bowels of the elements. Slivers of light part through the dense smog of the rolling clouds, glancing ever so briefly across the facial features of the wanderer; the luminescence is momentary, but any keen-eyed passerby would easily be able to distinguish the features in the flickers of light. A scarred muzzle sweeping with feral grace from an ivory visage, the barren dry and bloodied lips of this maw peeling back in fleeting and capricious annoyance at the wind. This expression reveals an impressive array of serrated fangs, bared towards the persistent air as it curls coyly through the copper hairs, retreating at the visual of those equally blood-hued daggers to resume its lethargic rolling over the land. From this proud muzzle, one would then glance upwards, gazing upon two large orbs; the left eye was a fierce gold, the pupil narrowed in feline fashion after the light had startled the wolf with its sudden descent from the clouds. The right eye of the lupine is one of its most conspicuous and gruesome physical attribute, scored and mangled by six - in a mocking reference to Satan, to contrast to her heavenly alias - irregular claw marks, the result of purposeful and malicious scarring by the claws of another. These blemishes had left the orb to be perpetually stained a scalding brew of molten metal searing amber intermingling with the brightest of scarlet reds. The vision of this orb remained mostly unaffected, if a small bit wavering whenever she focuses on an object for an elongated amount of time.
From there, there is nothing else overly noticeable beyond the spectrum of coppers and browns that is her fur and the heavy scarring littered sickeningly across her vast shoulders and long back. Now that the description is done, the maiden, called strangely Eden from the mocking tongue of a malicious sire, sets forth at a fierce sashay towards the abundance of scents. The beckoning call that had ricocheted through the trees just a heartbeat ago had an air of authority to it, and so the bronze creature was drawn to it like a crow to a carcass; her gentle swagger soon increases in tempo til she is in metaphorical flight, lissome legs and streamlined flanks propelling her to breakneck speed whilst maintaining balance in the form of a carefully - and proudly - arching tail and weighted barrel chest. She soon reaches her destination in a matter of a minute or so, slowing to the same earlier lope, albeit one marked with respect and prudent intensity. To the white and crimson splattered feya and her male companion she walks, the honey sphere of her left eye shivering in a concoction of interest and surprise at the obvious authority coiling within the tense muscles of the female. Never before had she bowed to a female leader, though her hesitation is momentary; soon, Eden steps forth and with the poise of a well-maintained recessiveness she falls into the prostrate position upon her back, belly up. Her legs are gently akimbo, the searing molten mesh of her right eye fixated with caustic watchfulness on the three wolves that towered before her.
Her white face held no true fear, for she felt none, but harbored a sense of respect and blankness that accompanied a soldier that had grown prodigious over time.
She took the time that came with a sudden lull in activity to scrutinize those around her who also were members, or were prospective lupine looking to join. She saw a few, one particularly saucy female who was the object of the alpha's male sibling's venomous remarks, the one he directed false smiles of simpering chilliness at. Beyond that, the figures meshed together, flickering like static before her tired eyes; and, so, she re-focused her fickle attention on the alpha, saying nothing, expecting nothing.
Nothing.
Nothingness.