[center][h1][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5157622][color=goldenrod]Elra Silverfang[/color][/url][/h1][/center]
[indent][b][u]Night of the Selection[/u][/b]
Location: Dancing Badger, Timberholde, Ovyadell [/indent]
[hr]
The wolf watched the blade, showing her bloody teeth and mussel with a little intensity. She had felt the Rouge's dagger and she wasn't going to feel a sword blade. Her master had tortured her enough with a blade trying to break her. It was the raising babies from their graves that did that and being forced to carry them around like a living child. The stories that the villagers provoked nightmares in her.  

She laid near Arin and stretched a paw out. She freed the lock pick from under the man's body letting them see it. She moved back into a sitting position letting Arin's hand rest on her and leaned a little. The wound on her side bled a little. 

She would pad back to her room and tend to it after the sword was removed. She looked up at Arin and sneezed wanting him to explain it. She wasn't going to change and discuss this with them without clothes and bleeding.