Aaka

Bright circle appears on the horizon. Dew soaks the grass as the paws of a gray she-wolf appears near the edge of the borders. She was alone, but she was used to it.

.Nares flare as the cologne of the Alpha of the pack residing here soar up into them. She halted, paws barely leaving a trace that she was there. Some Alphas were picky about their lands, not allowing strangers in. She sat down, her whip as still as a statue.

.Dial raised as muzzle pointed to the sky. Mug parted as low howl escapes them, calling, wondering if the alpha resides at the moment. Dial lowers. She awaits a retortion, hoping to not offend the Alpha. She herself gets offended easily, and she didn't want to impress that upon someone else.