Grimm
More comfortable in the skin of his shift than his human form, Grimm approaches as a gray-brown wolf with a slim, lithe build. His fur is thin but warm enough for the light chill of Leafchange, built for coastal weather rather than the biting breeze of the Tundra. Still, his paws creep quietly through the forest, easing as naturally over the sticks and mulch as they would sand and stone.
He steps from the dark shadow of a tree, darkness taking form where nothing had been before.
For a moment, he stares at Colt, ears angled forward, long legs poised for action, tail disconcertingly still. He studies her with quiet scrutiny, an intelligence in his golden eyes that could be equal parts Attuned or conniving predator, deciding how to handle what he's found.
Finally, Grimm shifts, muscles growing and scarred skin appearing beneath a set of dirty work clothes, a bag across his back. He doesn't look happy, a furrow deepening the dark set of his eyes as he lets out a low grumble. "This aiyn' the Feiverlan's." It'd taken him three times as long to get here, and the herbs he'd intended to find grew in arid, swampy lands, not the woods.
Although he doesn't plan to say more, a frantic chirping of birds snaps his attention to the trees, a handful of them diving for Colt. He narrows his eyes with obvious suspicion, not moving an inch as he observes the odd behavior. However, as they grow close to the rancher, he purses his lips and presses his mind against theirs to call them towards him.
Grimm arrives with a small bag of supplies and a single dagger. He tries to help Colt with her bird problem.
Can call like-minded animals for assistance (1 large, 3 medium, 5 small, from the same animal family)
He steps from the dark shadow of a tree, darkness taking form where nothing had been before.
For a moment, he stares at Colt, ears angled forward, long legs poised for action, tail disconcertingly still. He studies her with quiet scrutiny, an intelligence in his golden eyes that could be equal parts Attuned or conniving predator, deciding how to handle what he's found.
Finally, Grimm shifts, muscles growing and scarred skin appearing beneath a set of dirty work clothes, a bag across his back. He doesn't look happy, a furrow deepening the dark set of his eyes as he lets out a low grumble. "This aiyn' the Feiverlan's." It'd taken him three times as long to get here, and the herbs he'd intended to find grew in arid, swampy lands, not the woods.
Although he doesn't plan to say more, a frantic chirping of birds snaps his attention to the trees, a handful of them diving for Colt. He narrows his eyes with obvious suspicion, not moving an inch as he observes the odd behavior. However, as they grow close to the rancher, he purses his lips and presses his mind against theirs to call them towards him.
Grimm arrives with a small bag of supplies and a single dagger. He tries to help Colt with her bird problem.
Can call like-minded animals for assistance (1 large, 3 medium, 5 small, from the same animal family)
Where wolf's ears are, wolf's teeth are near.
