For the strength of the pack is the wolf...

[Meiilyn]

Meiilyn

..and the strength of the wolf is the pack
..and the strength of the wolf is the pack

As the beetle reaches the top of the grass stalk it pauses, hard-shelled wings springing from its carpace as it feels the wind, tiny antenna waving too and fro. It moves as if to take flight but the urge passes and tucking its wings back against itself, turns slowly and continues back down the stalk of grass - heedless that it has an audience.

Before too long the rest of the grass swallows the beetle and Meiilyn sighs, tufted ears flicking back and forth as the shadows of memories loom closer. A spiky clump of grass stabs itself into her nostril suddenly and she snorts, raising her head from where it had been contemplating the bettle. Snorting to free herself of any stray grass stalks lodged in her nose, she tenses slightly as her periphial vision catches sight of a rugged canine settling himself not far from her, piercing gaze seeming to have been watching the same beetle she had.

Her bushy tails flicks against her hocks, ears swiveling atop her head as she stares, some feeling tugging in her brain that this was not an ordinary fox. Somewhere deeper in her blood a sense of familiarity starts to rise. Like does call to like.