Gracefully she moves over the sand, a feat achieved only by those who had spent their lives here. The gentle sway of her hips, the undulating of supple muscle under her dark, silken coat which shone like the calm water as it caught the suns light. She is a beauty, between the vibrant flash of her pale eyes and the supple curves of her body it is apparent, feminine and delicate to a T. Yet something dangerous lurks behind her eyes, is evident in the underlying ways her lithe forms moves should any take the time to see it. She had been born a fragile flower, put upon a shelf so she wouldn’t get hurt and yet despite it all… or because of it all she bloomed into a weapon. Happily she allows others to believe she is the small, genial wolf upon their first glance, her size belying her ability and more often than not they were greatly surprised by what they received when she turned her teeth upon them.

Today, however, the thrill of the fight is not at the front of her mind. Instead she aimed toward a different target yet one that was just as enticing. Eden was a mystery to many, herself included, a delicious mystery which she was intrigued enough to keep coming back to. He was different than most of the wolves out there, different just as she was with perhaps just as much ambition. She would prove herself to him, prove herself worthy and she had come to let him know that today. At his wish she would take an apprentice, someone to teach the ways of the fight no matter their size and eventually build the ranks of Glorall’s warriors.

Finally she approaches his den, stopping a fair distance away as he isn’t one to enjoy close quarters. Dropping the prize she carried she pawed at a large rock, her nails scratching the hard service and making enough noise to catch his attention. Satisfied that he will have heard her if he is in fact home she noses the gift she had brought him, positioning it just so. It had become an interesting habit of hers to bring him birds she caught, always different species of any shape and size. Today she had caught a bird of brilliant blue and white with black lining which she assumed had migrated with the change of the seasons for she had not seen one of his kind before. Birds, flighty and agile as she perhaps it would be a metaphor if she cared for such things, but it is one of the best ways of speaking to him that she had. Some thought that being mute was a weakness, but on the contrary it gave her cause to have more strength and prowess that those to which things came easily. Righting herself she rolls her slender shoulders, arching her neck proudly as she waits for him.