The Prowlers of Dusk

You find yourself wandering into a den, decorated with vibrant stringing lights and lanterns, various rugs of bear and fox pelts lining the terrain in large comfortable piles. A mound of various trinkets and other shiny things laid along the side wall, appearing to be guarded by a pair of unfriendly-looking brown males. On the other side, a large divot in the ground showed their meat-store, the top covered in a loose thatch-like material to try making it last longer.

In the very back of the room, centered around the warmest spot of the den, is what appears to be a very thick-padded and warm-looking fabric chair, adorned with the pelt of a cougar. And that's when you noticed the tricolored figure lounging on it, his yellow eyes fixed quite curiously upon you. From the nests around what appears to be his proud DIY-Throne, perhaps a dozen or so small sets of ears poked out from the top, followed by dark noses and little bright eyes, which squeaked and stared but didn't dare to investigate.

The male didn't move from his spot at first, but simply eyed you, his muscles tensed to step in if anything were to happen. Finally, a young shewolf, perhaps half a year old at most, bounded right up to you, her sister trailing behind with more caution. The first daughter clearly proved they were the king's kin- she resembled him like a twin, as if her mothers' genetics had only given her life. The other was a pale, dusty color, quite plain but beautiful in her own way. ¨Seance is the name, and this is my sister Astrid. Welcome to our home, stranger!¨ The young tricolor spoke up, as Astrid sidled up beside her to scent you, and quietly added, ¨Perhaps you'd like to meet our father?" At his mention, he slowly peeled himself off of his spot and strode up to you. "If you seek refuge here, you're welcome to stay. But keep away from the pups and the mothers, our denmothers are quick to take a limb to defend their young, as they should be. And if you are simply visiting, let me know if you've seen any shewolves looking for a mate. We're trying to expand our rankings.¨ With his words, he nudged his daughters away and pointed to a pile of scrap-fur by the entrance, gesturing the stranger's spot to rest. After a moment they trot along behind him as he made his way back, and were soon exaggerating the details of the hunting parties they'd watched earlier in the morn´.