[center][h1][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5157622][color=goldenrod]Elra Silverfang[/color][/url][/h1][/center]
[indent][b][u]Day of the Selection[/u][/b]
Location: Eastormel Castle, Ironkeep, Ovyadell [/indent]
[hr]
Elra thought about shifting forms to give them room. She also thought that the floor might drop out from underneath them too. She thought of a hundred bats flying in from the sides. She thought of the hundreds of cruel things her master would have done. 

The room was getting warmer with their presence and the smell of old leather, of paper and a bit of decay filled her nose. She could smell the urine of rodents that had passes this way. She smelled the people around her scents. 

She started to hum an old elven tune that her mother had hummed when she was distracting her children. Elra hummed much better than she sang and some day she would learn the word to the song, if it had words. Maybe the Bard here, knew of it. 

Elra was well trained not to touch things that were not hers, though the scrolls and books were a great temptation. This smelled like a trap for that. If you touched things in here you were most likely not trustable. The crowded of people made the temptation greater as you were pushed against things.

A hand accidentally pressed against her and she gently reached down for it. Holding another’s hand brought comfort and she was nervous enough to seek comfort if it was offered. The wolf in her disliked this and it was ready to scratch at the doors. She needed a hand, this was like cage.

She closed her eyes and breathed slowly hoping the lady would come soon.