Lady Mo emerged from the water's surface, looking every bit the goddess she thought herself to be. The air was thick with a familiar scent... wolves. Judging by the the cacophony of twigs snapping and mud squishing, there appeared to be quite a few lycanthropes nearby. Be it curiosity or territorial tendencies, Mo immediately shifted back into her white wolf form. With heightened hearing, she stalked toward the nearest source of sound.

This was her forest, and she would not cower in the shadows against any pack - An alpha would fight to the death, always. Mohowauuck emerged from the wooded pond to face this strange man, he had wandered from the pack of the wolves. She did not need growls or aggression, the mere size of her form would be enough to intimidate. Instead, she looked down at him, her head held high with otherworldly poise and grace, beckoning him to speak.