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[/html]What was that sound? His ears perked to attention, catching the howl's echoes even over the crackle of the fire. He recognized it, somewhat, though he could not understand why; so many older members had returned to the Valley as of late, yet while this one reverberated with a familiar sound, he could not understand the reason behind such familiarity. It was a call, nonetheless, and up he rose from the rocking chair. Jefferson straightened the sling on his shoulder, cleared his throat, and out the front door he whisked.
Somewhere along the way he shifted to a lupus form, always finding it somewhat less terrorizing to strangers at the borders—even if this one held a resembling sound. The scarred man moved towards the call's source, the sound ringing like chimes in his ears. Who was it? Why did its origin perplex him so? Perhaps he walked faster than usual—or limped, rather—but Jefferson reached the point of interest physically before mentally, and the image that met his green eye startled him beyond belief.
Almost immediately, the fur at his neck and throat flared, talons digging at the soil. She had left so suddenly, so long ago, yet it was not necessarily on bad terms. Still, with how he had last seen her, the brute could not have been too careful. "Miriette," he said, a rawness in his tone and a stony presence in his eye. Jefferson thinned his eye, unconsciously poising himself, as if she might lash at him any second. "How kind of you to grace us with your presence. What do you want?"