Proctor

You've been exploring with the Lady's handmaidens when the trees erupt with howls.

"You look so startled!" Marissa giggles. "Don't stress, sweets. Hear that? The hunters are calling us. They must've made a kill."

You follow her up the nearest slope. In a clearing down below, you see a ragtag group of wolves standing over the carcass of a deer. They grin when they notice the handmaidens. The scent of blood hangs thick in the air while they mingle.

At the back of the party is a sheepish-looking wolf with amber fur and deep blue eyes. His ears flatten when the other hunters pass him by.

"I missed the kill again," he murmurs, burying his nose under his tail. "I fell into a ditch."

"Oh, Proctor." Marissa's voice softens in sympathy. "I'm sure you'll do better next time." She plants a gentle lick on his forehead, then turns away to the other hunters. "Come on," she calls to you, "let's eat!"

Proctor stares after her. He's still hiding behind his tail, but there's no mistaking the shy smile on his face.