Spellwing

Spellwing lifted up her left hand and put it to her neck, her thumb-claw slicing the ribbon that was tied around her throat.
Ugh, finally, Spellwing thought, snaking her head around to see who would notice. She wasn't supposed to take off her accessories, she was here to get a mate. "Dressed up like sacrifices," she muttered. Well, she thought, at least this'll be a good opportunity for pickpocketing.
The large brown ridgeback slunk to the crowd in front of the stage she had been behind, ignoring the other twittering singles clumped behind it, waiting for their turns to go up.
She dodged a bulky jaguar-spotted imperial and grabbed a shiny ring off his tail, avoided an indigo-black pearlcatcher while taking a handful of gems out of his bag, and winked at a gaggle of wildclaw hatchlings before pushing a glimmering piece of treasure into each of their hands. "Go get some candy," she whispered to the hatchlings. They giggled and ran to their caretaker, a stained-glass-winged skydancer who shepherded them to a candy-seller.
She smiled as their gleaming tails disappeared from view, and turned around to watch the other, similarly-gened wildclaws on the stage. They all had similar colors as her, in the same brown range, and she watched as they flipped and danced and spun.