The Floodlands Old dreams

The boy awoke, shivering, either with fear or cold, one eye opened, peeking, towards him. Not a very comforting sight, he was. Not that Tupilek really care. Do you speak yet, boy? He grumbled, placing the small (damn why was everyone so tiny) wolfing right in the sun, the better to dry him off and keep him from getting hypothermia. The little ones were always suspectible to that.

He began to dry the boy off with gentle licks, though they were sparing at best. It would be nice if you could speak and tell me where you came from.