Hazy was the light of the new morning day. With the coolness of the waters, likely fed from the seas from somewhere, and then the heat of the desert and southern region in general, this land was likely to hold a misty air all year round. She imagined coldness in the nights and winter. The wet air likely causing wolves fur to be consistently covered in a frost like blades of grass at first light.

Now, in the height of summer, the mist resting on her dark backside was a well welcomed one. Every so often the priestess would pause in her searching to lick dew from her muzzle and her forelegs to quench her thirst after her run here from the golden sands.

Eventually, it would be a distant woof which made her pause, snapping the willowy woman's attention into the direction of a woman colored in snow, blonde and golden hues. She was extremely short, but quiet heavily built - like a bulldog, if Pheonix knew what that was.

Oh, أهلاً. (hello) And then she corrected in common. Hello. This was the wolf's scent she had been smelling lingering around this area. This must be the one who called these palms and waterways home. A wise placement. A place one might build an empire from wandering souls looking for water and shade after crossing miles of sand and saltwater on either side.

Warm day to you. I am the one called Phoeonix Rising. The priestess lowers head head to linger between her forelegs a moment in respectful greeting before lifting once more to look at the little rounded yellow snowball.