Flaring nose at new scents, the pale wolf of silver rises to her feet, head bowed as she tries to make sense of it all.
Where is the palace that holds her? Those to guard her? Rustle of trees and hanging wisteria surround her. She steps forward, breath held in her throat as she looks around her. She cannot see past two wolf’s lengths ahead of her, though this is still the same as it had been.
Where she cannot see, however, she can scent, and her tail lifts as the musk of a male is known to her. It is no man she has known and for this, her chest tightens.
