The girl barely reacted to him—this was surprising. Larkspur was a tall wolf and built as thickly as a shepherd, covered in white dusted fur and scarred intentionally along his arms. Perhaps she was used to seeing disfigured people. Regardless, he remained stoic and continued to study her reaction. She could not meet his eyes. It was her short response that made his ears turn forward and his face crinkle. No? Then what the hell was she doing here? Frowning, the orange eyed wolf cocked his head slightly, eyeing the young wolf suspiciously as she smiled.
“You best tell me what y’came here for, girl,” he said flatly, rough voice carrying the hint of a threat. He did not move forward, not yet. There was no need for aggression around a child unless she proved to be dangerous. Though this sounded ridiculous, Larkspur did not have the patience for anything that might threaten his home; at least, his ability to remain in his home.
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