For all that she ran from the affection and care of Ravan, one can see how already his watchful eye has altered her. She does not look at the world with such a wary eye, does not seek to hide amongst bramble and bush. She does not fret confronting those who could otherwise have overpowered her. She is built like a greyhound - thin flesh, dished stomach, long limbs, deep chest - and against wolves, that build does not make her fit to defend or offend others of her same species. She, without Selene and Ravan, might have been overtaken and killed long ago. She might have become a wisp of a memory as she lays a wisp of a wolf before Elowen now. She is the sound of chimes, the sound of the viola, the sound of a flute. She has none of the power of a trumpet or cello or even the clarinet. She is lean, lithe, and light. Her forepaws cross in comfort, her head tilting as she smiles at the stranger who emerges from the makeshift den.

               There was something about the gray and slate and charcoal and silver that reminds her of the man she had hoped to avoid. There was a slight twitch of amusement to the lilt in her greeting and then the teal eyes of Leviathan meet the lovely green of her new companions. She admires the thicker form of the other female, admires how she is alone and can yet remain unafraid. She stretches her nose forward as a slight breeze brings hopefully a sliver of scent from the other wolf - something that can tell Leviathan a little more about the woman she spoke to. "It is a pleasure, Elowen! I am of Glorall - the pack of the shoreline woodlands and fields and island. I do not smell the other packs on you - how did you come to be alone?" And it is not cunning that creases her face into the expression she bears - she is truly concerned for Elowen, truly concerned as one who would obviously need to be if caught alone by an enemy.

               There is a crackle in the woods and her ear turns first before her eyes are brought away from the green gaze of the girl in the rocky cleft. It is clear she is attentive, that she knows something about such a place that Elowen might not. "Forgive me. I am not normally the sort to travel alone," She smiles sheepish, feeling a bit of a failure to her kind, "as you can see, I do not present much of a threat to anyone wishing ill... It makes me a little more aware of the world. This place particularly harbors a nasty variety of predators that have lived long without wolves to keep them at bay or to remind them that we are as ferocious hunters as they." She rises into a sit - better to speed her away if there came time or need for her to bolt, and yet she does not yet...

               Elowen proves that the world beyond Moladion was still rich with other cultures and people. She had liked her time spent on the outer rim, the time where the world was open and outstretched and her lean body and light figure benefited her far better than at present. She could weave among trees, but agility took away from the sheer massive speed that could be taken from her full stride and springlike action in her back. "Are you quite safe? Are you lost? Please let me help if I can....".


The Obsidian Beauty of Glorall
[ female - two - no mate - ravan's dancer - islander ]