Silver Fyre

'Oh great, this isn't going to be a good impression.' That thought sat heavily in Silver Fyre's mind as the ebony and silver wolfdog crashed through the stone-strewn forests towards the central Temple. She'd been out a ways from the main complex when the dual calls for assembly went out, and despite pushing herself to the limit, Fyre still managed to show up late. With her fur drenched from the short swim through the moat, and burs clinging in unsightly heaps in her usually flawless coat, the bedragged shewolf sprinted hastily through the stone archway. A quick glance around confirmed that the pack had already moved out to wherever they were going, causing Silver to slowly plane her ears back and droop her sodden tail in defeat. 'Shit.'

Silver Fyre considered howling for the pack, or perhaps trailing their scent if she could figure out which way they went, but she didn't want to blunder into something she knew nothing about. What if it was some grand ceremony, or a private event? Sighing, the wolfdog shook her coat, then sat down and began to pick away the burs that had hitched a ride during her frantic flight through the woods.