Emberwood i wouldn't change ya

a long, catlike blink — mahler was unused to teasing from men. the last wolf to regard him so had been a smug, pale she-wolf, her face all but forgotten by the musiker. the former coastal creature decided that the roguish glint that had crept into his companion's tones was charming, if not confusing in a vague way. he did not seem similar to alarian; this then was a game to be played, perhaps.
"hunting to clear the vaters of the mind," mahler intoned, a longer sentence than he had spoken for some time, and not to a wolf who a scant handful of minutes ago was a mere stranger. what had come over him? a curious swivel of one ear. "vy did you leave?"