The uniquely patterned she-wolf was not the only one with food on the brain. The mocha adolescent's tail swished in time with his steps as he sniffed along near the borders, hot on the trail of something. He assumed the form he often took to hunt—the burly quadruped, the secui. He kept low to the earth as he stalked through the underbrush, but when another canine scent tickled his nose, he rose and squinted into the distance, ears erect. He listened... nothing.
Barrett frowned and followed the unfamiliar trail. His tail and his hackles rose on instinct, but there was no aggression in his posturing when he spotted the petite female. A rabbit scurried away from them; he paid it little heed. The stranger was much more interesting... and strange she was, foreign in every sense of the word. Her eyes were a different shade from Pixie's cool violets—still purple, though with a tint of fuchsia. But mostly it was her coat that stood out to him; those black and brown splotches against a canvas of white, he'd never seen anything quite like it before.
As always, he was careful not to gawk, but he still stole a couple good glances for memory's sake. What could he say? He was a sucker for a pretty face, and Charm was certainly exotic. “What's up?” he said smoothly, before the silence had time to grow awkward. Was she a visitor, or did she seek a place amongst their ranks?
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