Møtliana

The black femme with brown intermingled especially in her abdomen area slinked into a dark alleyway. There was no moonlight nor stars, she depended on her eyes. Møtliana had just recently arrived into the Valley. She hadn't yet explored the wildlife world, as she entered through the human civilization.

She could smell the perfumes of many different rogue dogs and cats. There was a tiny tinge of human here or there, but rarely ever. Her fluffy pelt rustled in the slight breeze. She felt trapped in the dark alleyways. She however kept her head up in a dignified appearance, for she seemed to be the only pretty thing in the place. Yes, she did have scars here and there, and her fur was considerably greasy. But she hadn't seen anything better so far, unless you count those delicious half-eaten steaks in the dumpster.

Møtliana continued to explore the many alleyways, looking for a pack or gang to join. She may look all sugar, spice and everything nice, but she was a hard-ass. This could be useful to whatever gang or pack she joined, considering a butcher may be willing to give her a sausage chain or two since she was a beautiful femme.
No, don't get her wrong, she didn't look like some softhearted neighborhood dog. No, she looked like a pure wolf, and acted like one even more.

Her honey colored orbs darted around the dark, mysterious alley. You could hear the faint beeping of car horns, music blaring as some drove by. Those, however, where on the mainstreet, and she was far in the series of alleys. She lifted her muzzle into the air, sniffers searching for a pack to join. Her auds were up and sharp, listening for the sound of claws on pavement.

Skeil

Motliana's presence hadn't gone unnoticed for too long in the dark, twisting alleys that she had wandered into. Part of the area was claimed by the Shadow Lurkers pack, and they worked diligently to keep tabs on any strays that passed through or near their territory.

Today, it was Skeil that chanced upon the wolf's scent and began to follow it in earnest. The white-coated pitbull made her way down one ice-covered roadway to the next, skirting around parked vehicles and trashcans as she closed in on the lone wolfess. The dull clack of her long, blunt-tipped nails would be heard easily by the attentive Motliana, a few moments before Skeil appeared around the nearest corner and stood in full view of the black wolf. Skeil stopped, with her squared head raised high and her long tail perked straight up; she gave off a look of confidence and authority, without any show of aggression or threat. Her alabaster body was covered in scars that highlighted her long life, and the many battles she took part in to defend her family and home.

"Who are you?" Skeil questioned the stranger boldly. Though she was smaller than Motliana, and nearing her twelfth year of life, the old pitbull carried a pack scent on her that would let everyone know she was part of a group, and not just some stray who was trying to assert her authority on everyone.