<div class="floatright">(http://i1013.photobucket.com/albums/af255/fellea/Amber_1280x420.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Amber Vanlaer<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Steve/Harley-Jaclyn-Nathaniel/Open<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Fireside Group<br/><hr/><br/>Although she should have been surprised with their new ‘pack master’ bowing out at the first sign of a crowd, Amber wasn’t, not in the least. It was better than the wolf being as old as he claimed, which was apparently old. She hadn’t heard his original response, but already the nearby lean-in’s that hadn’t had the courage to step up and be a part of the scene were whispering. They’d be playing the telephone game throughout the grounds all night, of that the she wolf had no doubt. Every wolf from here to Timbuktu would be singing about how Nathaniel was the secretly some Direwolf Hybrid God or some such. Without knowing it, Amber’s lips turned all sorts of scrunched as this scenario and half a dozen more played out in her head. Digging her toes absently into the grass, she harrumphed and gave the ground a kick.<br/><br/>“Retreating already, that’s not a good sign. He’s got a world of wolves to address though, so I’m sure he’ll just take it the logical way and make a series of appointments. Address us by surnames or-“ Amber paused during her loud proclamation, but only for a split second’s worth. Like a needle skipping across a bump on a record. “-or whatever.”<br/><br/>Without any real kind of ceremony the grumbling brunette thrust herself down beside the barrel of wine that their fearless leader was kind enough to leave. After the thought that just smacked her, she needed it. Possibly all of it.<br/><br/><em>‘Wolves from all over have gathered here. Loners, families… what’s to say they won’t too?’</em><br/><br/>“Fuck it, no reason all this wine should go to waste!” Not seeing any other free glasses, Amber took up the half finished one that Nathaniel had left. With a sniff at the rim, she shrugged and held it down as she turned the tap. Sticking her finger beneath the flow, she gave the prime vintage a taste while her glass filled. Realizing that one of the redheads had been speaking, finger still half in her mouth, she grinned around it before promptly pulling the digit out and giving Jaclyn a two fingered tip off from her brow.<br/><br/>"Amber." This she added as her eyes peeled about the small fireside group one last time before landing on Steve. Him she made go away by upending her glass, which not only succeeded in flooding her senses with the residual taste of the glasses' previous master, but a rich bouquet of later summer grapes with a hint of plum and an intricate smattering of mulling spices. The blend in itself was an intoxicant enough, alcohol notwithstanding.