Totoka River dancing with the waves

The man wonders what she could possibly mean by 'unconventional means'. His gaze tears from the ocean back to the woman. He had not been looking closely before; he sees now the grime in her fur, the tenderness she holds herself with. But he is unsure what to make of that information, and he has never been the type to press. "I see," he instead says, plainly curious. 

She changes the subject. He dips his head, thoughtful. "Prior to these lands, I was briefly with a pack named Gnarled Oaks. Prior to that, I traveled from much farther north." Étoille has not thought of his home-lands in some time. He thinks about his clumsy words to the wanderer, Ty, his hesitancy to label himself, despite his seemingly endless need to roam. But he wants to stop roaming. He's just gotten too picky, somewhere along the lines. "It would be nice to settle down,"  he says absently, more to himself than to her. Perhaps it was time.