Permafrost Hollows i am a man of many hats

He was beginning to think he should stop asking Ulf personal questions; the answers always made his heart ache. Alarian moved to press against the wolfdog, nuzzling gently into his neck fur if he was allowed. This time, he didn't bother saying what they both already knew— that things were different now, that he would never have to go through that again. It was a promise he had already made. Now he would show what that meant.
The question gave him pause. For several beats, he actually didn't understand— always here? Would he always be here? He opened his mouth to answer, but— wait, no, maybe he was asking if he had always been in these wilds. No, Alarian began, pulling away slightly, then stopped. His origins were... complicated, to say the least. Would Ulf even understand?
Would he ever know if Ulf understood if he kept treating him as if he didn't?
I was born in a place called Sunfil Grove, He glanced away, towards the mouth of the icy tunnel; he would keep it simple, for now. Perhaps Ulf would want to know more— perhaps he wouldn't. It's very far east. Maybe too far to ever go back. Another pause. I haven't seen it in... a long time.