Blackfeather Woods galaxies formed from gravity

The moment she opened her mouth he picked up on her accent, the thickness making it something incredibly difficult to ignore. He was reminded of his birthplace, the voices of his grandparents and many others floating through his head, carrying him home. It was easy to get lost in his thoughts, trapped by brief flickers of numerous memories. Luckily, he was able to rein himself in before he left her hanging for too long, focus jumping back to her questions; whilst her voice still clung to his thoughts, he forced himself to leave it alone, at least for now.

Nodding, he answered first with, “Yeah.” The forest was his home—had been for a great many years, too—making him a fine representative for them; he hadn’t been born there, no, but he was still from there, in a way. “This is Blackfeather Woods,” he added a beat later. “Far in the south.” Though this was likely obvious—even a blind wolf could tell that they were far from the north—he couldn’t keep the words in his mouth.

The obvious wasn’t the only thing that he couldn’t comment on, either, as his interest got the better of him and he could ignore her manner of speaking no longer. “Avanimiut,” he stated, not needing confirmation; he was certain of this, the accent unmistakable.