Sam Carroway
Cave near Pack House. A growl tore free of her furred throat, grounding down to a threatening bass as she stared at the younger wolf. Her fur lifted along her body, making her appear even larger than the other and as the moon was caught and held in her gleaming eyes, Sam took one slow, aggressive step forward. Her muzzle wrinkled back further, exposing long and deadly canines. Tension tightened around the two wolves, with a few other pack members slinking back by degrees. Sam's ongoing growl shifted briefly into a snarl, causing the other wolf to whine and drop his body to the ground. As he grovelled, Sam remained stiff and growling for several more seconds, pinning him with her glare.
When he finally crept forward, keeping his belly to the floor and eyes rolled up to anxiously watch her, Sam relaxed and let the growling taper off. Ready to appease, the other wolf lifted up and licked at her lower jaw in submission, ceasing only when Sam emitted a quick, sharp growl. Settling back onto her haunches, Sam watched the newer werewolf slink off, aware of others of the pack watching her cautiously. The tension ebbed, allowing the pack members to resume their previous engagements. Shaking out her fur, Sam paced to the mouth of the cave and peered out into the coming night. A couple wolves came up to her and rubbed their furred sides against hers in a show of solidarity, adding another of many touches the were shared amongst the werewolves of Odessa – shifters were a fairly touchy sort, expressing a host of things through physical touches.
Tired of the cold against her paws, Sam left the cave and angled towards the house, taking the quickest route. Her ears shifted by minute degrees as new sounds came to her, feet whispering along the snow. With her black coat, Sam stood out rather bluntly against the snow, but as the night deepened around her, she became a deeper shadow weaving around thick tree trunks. Springing up the steps of the deck that spilled from the back of the house, Sam moved towards the portion that had some shelter from the elements. A rather large cabinet with dozens of small, square drawers was tucked against the house and was the object of Sam's attention. She shivered, breath pluming into the cold air, and let the heat of the change overwhelm her form. Shifting was always slightly painful and quite uncomfortable as the fur slide away and bones rearranged themselves, but Sam had the benefit of having more mastery over it than some werewolves.
Rising to her feet, Sam pulled out a drawer near the center and removed some clothing. Briskly tugging on jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, she padded barefoot up to the rear doors and made her way into the warm, inviting depths of the pack house.