Permafrost Hollows i am a man of many hats

Warmth spread through his chest; it wasn't a feeling to inspire anxiety, for once. No crushing dread, no frantic bite of frayed nerves. He was calm. He was happy. It was only a band-aid, he knew— a temporary fix, only lasting as long as their trip. Alarian soaked it in nonetheless, eyes never leaving his friend. This was a feeling he craved. Perhaps more than anything else.
He closed his eyes as Ulf bumped gently against his shoulder. Yes, His agreement was soft, warm. Alarian cracked his eyes open to study the wolfdog, then. Part of him wondered if this was as rare for Ulf as it was for him— if it was as special. He wondered whether he wanted the answer to be yes or no. What was your life like before this?