Bearclaw Valley I bought this glove a thousand years ago

Tadec was right about one thing: now that Lucas was intrigued, no amount of saying "no" would stop him from tagging along. He had already proven to occasionally follow the adult members of the pack away from the den without permission, though this was never done to intentionally be disobedient. The boy listened as best he could but sometimes he got carried away in his excitement. Everything was an opportunity to see more, learn more and do more. He lived in the moment, and he lived for these discoveries.

So he leaped to his feet with a bright exclamation of, "Yay!" and pressed close to the coywolf, eager to set out and see what a firefly was. He glanced back as if in search of Piper or Wyatt, but he didn't know what they were doing, or if they were even round. They could be out with Laurel for a walk for all Lucas knew. "Can you eat 'em?" Lucas asked, settling easily into the role of over-eager child with a hundred questions. "Does fy-flies taste good? Does it taste like warms? Do you li'e t'eat warms?"