There's no angels here.

[Sacha]

Name: Sacha
Birthdate (including year): September 15, 2001
Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci (not applicable to non-canines): Luperci
Species: Timber wolf x Mexican wolf
Gender: Male
A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M). I can't get AIM ect. to work on my computer. ^^;
How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Prior member from way back, left for RL reasons. 'Souls has been on my mind lately so...here I am.
Initial post:
Note ~ Kama is an NPC, I hope this is OK. I'm aware of the restrictions.

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It was evening, cool and overcast, when Sacha approached the border carrying his small daughter in his arms. "Remember to behave yourself, young one," he told the chubby brown Optime pup sternly, who stopped mouthing the fang hung around her neck on hemp cord long enough to gaze innocently up at the older wolf. "I won't make any trouble, Papa. Promise." She wrinkled her nose then. "What smells like peepee?"

"The border," he replied, grinning hungrily, long strides slowing. Tall, broad-shouldered Sacha was impressive in his bipedal form, a pale chestnut stranger mottled with lighter brown tones. Bold symmetrical designs had been painted in white across his face, surrounding mismatched eyes -- the right eye, bright mahogany and the left...dilated to such an extent that only a suggestion of red peeked from around the gaping pupil. His sight must have been poor but he moved with certainty. Faded black cloth, tied around his forehead, pushing lengths of mane. He had a sharp look to him. Yet, not really wholesome. Not really the sort of person you'd expect to be toting around a toddler.

He halted and gently lowered Kama to the ground, along with a dark green traveller's pack and a hard case shaped vaguely like it held an acoustic guitar, and took a deep breath, and howled.

The question was clear, the note concise: will you come? will you accept us? They needed a home. More specifically, Kama needed a home. Sacha could fend for himself and preferred doing it alone, but his little daughter would benefit from living in a pack. She'd be safer. "Papa, my tummy 'urts." The pup, three months of age, sat heavily.
White dashes 'neath cobalt eyes. The paint was flaking. Sacha squatted next to her, bracing a scarred knee against the ground. "I'll get something for you soon," the male reassured her. "Eat a little grass for now. See if it helps."

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