Dancing through the cypress trees in search for more plants for her spells, the Shadowpoison of Iromar drifts closer and closer to the western border of the territory. Summer, as sweltering as it can be, was cooler than was typical and seemed to bring about better spirits in the southern swamp wolves. Without being burdened by the sun’s unbearable heat they were more active and diligent than ever. The swampdragons, however, were also out more often than not to regenerate in what warmth the sunbeams did provide. While Caesura usually did not mind an encounter with them, she was more alert than usual since they have been lingering on land for longer than normal. She feels that she understands them and keeps an amicable distance but she is also mesmerized by their power at the same time; she has gotten quite the collection of teeth and claws from the beasts who have been unfortunate enough to pass on.

As she roams nearer to the border there is a masculine howl that is sent into the air close by. She pauses for a moment to listen, one paw hanging in the air as her attention is focused on this stranger’s voice, and as soon as it is over she resumes her trekking. She doesn’t rush to greet him immediately and instead finds the spanish moss that she had been hunting for. She lifts herself onto her hind legs and props her front paws on the trunk of a tree to grasp at low-hanging branches and masses of moss, yanking gently to pull down as much as possible without shredding it. She repeats this a few more times until she has a hefty amount piled on the ground and nudges it around to tidy it up.

Now, smelling ever more like earth and wetland flora, she turns to tend to the stranger at their door; leaving her goods until she makes the trip back inland. It only takes her a few minutes to reach him from where she was and as she steps through the reeds she sees that he is but a dwarf of a wolf; so small and… pup-like. Caesura is no goliath by any means but even she towers over this petite lupine that waits at their border. If it weren’t for his scent and the tell-tale signs of aging on his features she may have imagined him to be a youth. Quite possibly the smallest adult she had ever seen!

With his appearance aside, she smells the evergreens and crispness of the mountains on his coat and immediately takes to a guarded demeanor. She was always seen with a rather empty expression on her face but now there is something more to the void, a fortress behind her eyes, and an arsenal of bone to defend if necessary. ”Why are you here?” she demands in a deeper, more threatening tone than usual.