He was just starting to get the hang of this two-legger thing... Cercelee had taken him back, offering forgiveness for his sorry mental state. The thought that she still loved him, despite everything he put her through, it gave him a smile no matter where he was... Feeling a warm confidence ripple through him, the lumbering werewolf walked ponderously through the wet puddles, residue from the torrential rains that had plagued their land this summer. His broad Optime shoulders swayed as he moved, shaggy black and white fur lank along his oversized frame. Once he had finally learned how to shift, he learned he was the largest werewolf in Dahlia de Mai...
A loud, melodious howl erupted from the east; it echoed and died down in moments, but the call was clear. There was a newcomer at the borders. Slay frowned - it had been a long time since he had accepted a loner. Was Henratha Gyrkin the last wolf he had met with? It seemed so. But it was only fair to start pulling his share again, since his Cercelee had done so much of it for him in the past month. Steeling his resolve, the huge werewolf padded towards the cry, his icewater eyes peering ahead to see who it was that approached. He rarely left the packlands, so he was unlikely to recognize any relatives or foreign families, but what he saw did surprise him.
Was that Gabriel de le Poer?
Slay only knew the leader of Inferni by description, but that description fit this canine perfectly. But that was impossible - for this hybrid was female. Shaking his broad skull to clear his thoughts, the Luperci drew near, nodding his head politely to the waiting loner. "Welcome to Dahlia de Mai," he rumbled, hoping his shifted size would not alarm her. He was still highly uncomfortable with his upright appearance, but hadn't bothered to shift back down to all fours. If she felt threatened at all, he would gladly shrink back to his regular height and weight, rather than traipsing about like a piebald bear. "I'm called Slay. Who are you, and what brings you here to our borders?" The question was a formality, but Slay was well-rooted in tradition. This would be done by the book.