[As the air around Clive chills, and as white begins to dapple the green paths he walks, he may pick up on the sound of a woman humming a song, as if it's carried by the snow-kissed breeze that now swirls around him. It's soft though, so very soft that it's soon drowned out by the crunching of paws upon the snow as a wolf dressed like a king speeds toward him down a trail hidden by a thick gathering of trees and underbrush.
The wolf doesn't stop when he reaches Clive; rather, he practically collides with him, claws clanking against armour as he rises to greet the master for whom he'd howled not so long ago.
He has another purpose in seeking him out, of course, but he's such a good boy – the very best one – that he can't help but take a moment to say hello, first.]
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The wolf doesn't stop when he reaches Clive; rather, he practically collides with him, claws clanking against armour as he rises to greet the master for whom he'd howled not so long ago.
He has another purpose in seeking him out, of course, but he's such a good boy – the very best one – that he can't help but take a moment to say hello, first.]