My eyes stay fixated on all the wolves who produce so many colors with their voices. Their tones were so stretched out in the air at this point, with my mind being on edge. I do not know if they are friend or foe. My nose searches for the scent of Isola, and my ears watch for the colors of her own delicate voice. Yet, as my ice blue eyes that fade into the most striking of white glance around, I see no sigh of my Isola. I find myself huffing once more, my hackles raising slightly out of my agitation. It only takes a moment for me to realize there is nothing for me here. There is no Isola. She has not returned and I am wasting my time here. I am driven to search for her along the borders. I want to ensure that no one will harm her, but alas I cannot. I am still a pup. I am small compared to the adults. My limbs are growing though. Growing so long in time. But time is not on my side, and I find myself slowly starting to back away.

That is, until I notice the gaze of one particular boy. He locks onto me and I find that I am rather...captivated by this. I pause my step backwards in the dirt and leaves. My glassy orbs are locked with his, like fire they are. Like fire and they burn through my soul. I find that I do not understand what is happening to me. I find that my urge to rush and find Isola was calming like the ocean after a storm. I cannot explain how eyes can do this, but they do. I stare as our eyes meld and melt like fire and ice. I find that the world pauses for a moment. Just a small moment in time when the mind slows and allows me to just breathe. In and out. Just breathe. The sound of my own breath is the slight tinge of color upon an oil slick. My head still remains low while I stand, engulfed in this moment of calm.

That is not to say that I will remain calm. I am quickly snapped out of this sensation the moment he starts walking towards me. My head twitches as my glistening eyes of ice blink, my whole frame leaning back a bit as my chocolate ears fall flat on my skull. He continues to look at me, his eyes aflame with something I have never seen before. My first response to this...to all of this is fear. One should not bring a calm to me so quickly, not when I have been agitated for so long. I do not understand what is happening or what is going on. My wild nature tells me initially to be wary, to fear something so strong and unknown.

It is all this that makes my cream colored muzzle dance with fangs. I pull back my black lips and show my teeth to him, and it is no smile. I find my body, however, staying still. I hold myself with my head low, ears against my skull and still leaning away from the direction he came. My legs were tense and ready to dash at any moment. I watch as he comes closer and closer, his eyes burning deeper and deeper into my...my something. My insides. My mind. Something unknown. It only causes my teeth to glimmer as I expose more fang. He gets closer and closer. I find he gets much too close for comfort and I snap in his direction. Nothing harmful, and nothing that would hit. I just...snap, a small growl lingering in my mouth.

I find the tension in my body rising with him being so close. I find that my legs are just about to dash when something happens. The colors of his voice wash over me like a gentle wave on a breezy day at the lake. It is golden. Golden like Mother. His voice is golden like Mother's. No one...no one else has spoken in the golden tongue that my Mother once did. My Mother, didn't even speak often. I can remember her golden tones from when I was real small, curled up on our bed in the caverns. His voice is different, much different than my Mother's in sound, but in color? Maybe his was a little more vibrant, a little more lively. I find that the moment he speaks in his sun filled tones that my lips fall over my fangs once more. All aggression seems to melt off of my face. I even allow my red-hued form to lean a bit closer to him, to sniff him carefully with a snort at the end as he asks me to please not run away. I find my ears perking forward, excitement filling my eyes as his golden hues return to my mind. Mother. So much like Mother. I want to hear more. It soothes me. I cannot control that my chocolate and rose tail begins to wag a little behind me, and that my head raises a bit closing the gap between us to only a half a foot or so.

"Voice...of gold. Psallant me."

My voice is soft, so very soft and quiet like a whisper. Language is not my strong point, and I find myself having trouble distinguishing the Latin I have learned from Isola and the English. I often mix the languages together with little intention of doing so, and I am also completely ignorant of the fact that not everyone speaks Latin. I hope that he understands me though, and my face is lit up with hope.