The Sentinels in the woods somewhere

A year had passed. The soot was washed from his fur, but he still felt the sting of his losses. He was sure he always would. Yet the sun was shining through the boughs, and the gulls were calling on the wind, and the sea breeze that brushed his face was as fresh as he could've hoped.

Perhaps, even now, he could enjoy his life.

Struck by the thought, the male lifted his head and howled. He was tired of being alone.

He hadn't seen Sonnet in days, and oh — ! Fable was well and truly miserable without his sibling. Not that he would ever admit it.

Not to the noisy stranger who startled him as he sulked his way through the trees, at least. It was surely annoyance that brought him closer to investigate rather than any sense of loneliness. Surely. Fable halted to squint at the guy from a distance.

Well? Where's the party at, then?

The male that found him was smaller and wirier, and apparently, not pleased with Sockeye's song. He tried to imagine what the goal of approaching him was, and what the desired response to those words might be. Not necessarily because he wanted to puppet that, but because he wanted to understand exactly what he was responding to.

Ah, it was impossible to know. But he guessed it was some sort of insecurity speaking. So he thought to make the man feel more secure with a duck of his head and a smile.

"I wasn't invited," he replied, his tail swishing as he feigned a little sorrow. "You aren't on your way?"