Devil and I get along just fine.

Winds carried his scent through the territories, singing the song of his arrival. They blew in through the valley from the backside of the dark wolf, blowing angrily through the fur that laid over his neck and his back. He was cautious in his approach, almost wary. He knew not where he waged a path, but he was not blind to the meandering, pungent smell of a Pack that laid claim to these lands. 

Atop one of the Vale's many hills, the wolf stopped, his thick frame a staunch figure upon the landscape. Young muscle hung warmly beneath his thick coat, casting him the intimidating stranger.

But he was no threat. 

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The moon hung like a lantern in the dark sky, casting ethereal light over the vale. The wind howled in the air, wracking against cliffsides to echo through open meadows and into Gjalla's ears.
 
Her claws dragged against dark stone, ears folding back against the breeze. In the hushed stillness, she detected a scent. It rang so sweetly in her mind, warm and crisp. She'd recognize it anywhere.
 
Gjalla followed the scent eagerly, and soon it materialized into a reality she had longed for. There, before her, were the distinctive ebony and silver markings she knew so well. “Looking for someone?” The princess purred, quirking a brow as she watched his head turn.

“Rytsas, lēkia.” — Hello, brother.

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He knew that voice like the cracks that wore through his paw pads. At first, shock filled him, and then came relief. The flood gates burst open and the wolf's head turned sharply, acute eyes finding their home against her pelt of contrasting hues. She burned with the raven of their mother, while he was dark as the obsidian sire they belonged to. 

“As I live and breathe. Sister.” Elation filled his voice like a river overflowing. Draevo wasted no time in moving from the post he'd stationed himself at to reach his sister's side, to press his nose to her forehead and breathe in the smells that made her... her. In her he found his mind lingering to the lost memories of home. She was the first scrap of it he'd found since he'd awoken on this dream isle. 

Draevo heaved a sigh as he pulled back from her. “Of all places a princess of ice would live.” Draevo glimpsed around the vale. While Gjalla had always embodied the spirit of Stormrift, the perfect daughter and heir, Draevo had always been more of a wild card. He was a Prince by heritage, but he'd never accepted the title or deemed it fitting. He possessed royal blood but he did not live by it. 

 

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"Draevo," she said, her voice carrying a mixture of joy and disbelief. She welcomed his affectionate gesture, their noses touching as she inhaled sharply, taking in his scent with nostalgia in mind. Evergreen and maple brought her back to a time when life was simpler, when their family was whole.
 
A lighthearted chuckle pooled in her throat. "Velaris is a far cry from Stormrift, certainly." Gjalla admitted, nosing into the silver fur of his cheek as she spoke.
 
As she pulled away, she offered a soft smile, eyes deepened by something more than melancholy. "It was Vahae's choice." she replied, her gaze sweeping the surroundings. Her words held a certain weight, hinting at the struggles they had faced. "It is.. good to see a familiar face. I've missed you."

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