Satan, eg lovde Cer å ikkje ver treige med denne threaden, jaja 
Mew stared at the dark male as he sat down and let the wind catch hold of his mane. He was handsome, very handsome, in fact. She might have to persuade him to stay here, and they needed males. There was a war, and thus they should be recruiting, should they not? This one was tempting, even though she distrusted most strange wolves by default. She'd never had a mate, and her distrust was the cause of it. She'd quickly learned that one didn't need to have a mate to start a family though, yet the gods had wanted it otherwise. She shook the thought away, it would not be allowed to ruin her fun with the encounter. Tell you about us? Well, in terms of loneliness, there are quite a few females that might be to your liking among us. She winked at him and smiled, playing now, the game of flirtation. What was there to say about them, really? That they had a Lilium that was quite bloodthirsty, that they were currently at war with a clan of coyotes, and that the areas around the vineyards held lots and lots of rabbits? Silly things to say, except perhaps the last thing, since he was hungry. Males were always first and foremost interested in food, or so Mew had experienced. Food, sleep and sex. Fill all of those needs and voila, you have a satisfied male. This one seemed to be no exception, really, from what she could tell. He was good-looking, and he knew it. Perhaps arrogance would be a word that would fit, but not necessarily the unattractive form of arrogance. She looked at him again, gaze not faltering as she spoke. Her voice was melodic, its usual self, but now also with a little playful edge to it. A small smile of amusement was on her lips. But what about you, Desaevio? What brings you here, and who are you?
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