The gurgling laugh of a reptile and the silent inner groaning of the wolf bound to him plays out in the night. There is a moment of summer peace which flows between the branches, the prelude to an unexpected song.

The deep, sorrowful vocals of a hound much like that of a wolf ring first. The sound ricochets off the trunks of the trees, dances between the branches of the deep forest. Next, the feminine voice of a mare from above. Without visual, without scent, without knowledge, the bonded pair immediately guess who calls to them from the walls of darkness - Cirrus and her companion Sitka. Comadre chirps excitedly, twirling about in the sky for a moment, violet eyes peering through the veil of night in the woods, seeking the outlines of the familiar forms.

Osiris huddles his new limbs closer to his sides, all the more begrudging of their sudden presence. Life has a way of bringing such surprises at the least desirable times. Perhaps, if it had been Ophelia in the night, he would have strode toward her to confide and complain. Instead, it was a mare he hardly knew, only exchanged a sentence or two with. She had been young but accepting of his odd nature, yet how to explain that in the time since their first meetiing, he had only gotten all the more strange?
He sighs, hoping his friends, the shadows, would hide the better part of the leather appendages.

With long, graceful strides of a wolf, the hybrid begins in the direction of the sound. Keen eyes pick out the clearest pathways even in this dim light, relying at times upon the even sharper vision of his draconic companion. The electric blue on the coat of the hound catches the pair of eyes first, for Cirrus is little more than a blanket of stars - a striking one at that. Intrigued, Osiris walks closer, his golden eyes seeking out the familiar blue of her eyes. The coat she wore upon their first meeting had been reminiscent of a rainy day, but now she appeared to have flown through stardust and landed back upon the earth, stripping the night sky of its ethereal garb.

Almost owlishly, the stallion blinks - remembering that it is rude to stare.

"Good evening, Cirrus," he says, nodding to the mare, turning his attention then toward the hellhound. "Sitka."

And, of course, dropping like a sudden bomb from the sky is a loud, squalling dragon, with a glimmering smile of ivory teeth and outstretched wings. "Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrssss," the name comes out like a purr, followed by the same chattering trill of his reptilian mouth. The small creature lands like a black smudge upon Osiris's shoulder, smiling constantly outward with lively purple eyes.