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?"

Oh. Fable blinked, visibly softening as the man spoke. Uh... Did he even remember how to talk to people anymore?

I wasn't invited either, He managed after a moment, his own smile a touch self-deprecating. We can always make our own, yeah? Fable gestured grandly forward as if they had somewhere important to be, and chose a random direction to walk in. They couldn't hold their party here, after all. Much too dull.

Before he could muster up any sorrow for his own lack of invite, the younger male admitted that he hadn't been invited anywhere, either. And before he could muster any sympathy for him (and rest assured, sympathy had been coming) he invited him to a new party; one they two would have to attend together or fail to attend at all.

Sockeye had been doing his best not to be a failure.

"Too right," he agreed, gratefully following in the man's wake. "Name's Sockeye, by the way. Yours?"

He guessed it would be something more impressive; Sock couldn't help but gaze appreciatively at the burnished bronze of his pelt.

"I was thinkin' on joining this pack here, but they seemed pretty — y'know. Packed." Oh, but he missed his children! They hated all the dad jokes he so loved. What he wouldn't give to have them scoff at him now. "So I thought then I might try the next one. I'd just as soon try with a friend than alone, though."

Sockeye. It wasn't like any name he'd ever heard before — but then, he wasn't from around here. Maybe that was just the way of things in these parts.

Fable Dubois-Mayfair, He offered in return, opting to skip on his dozen middle names for now. Plenty of time for that later, if they were meant to be party buddies now. His ears cocked with interest when the man continued.

That's one way to make our party a whole lot bigger, Fable's eyes sparkled with light humor as he looked to Sockeye, his agreement in his tone if not spoken outright. Got a place in mind? It didn't sound as if he did, but Fable wasn't one for assumptions.

"Fancy," he commented, finding he was unsurprised that such a man might carry such a name. Humility did not seem to be a strong suit — something Sockeye approved of and was grateful for, at least for the time being.

There was a little hop in his step now that he had someone beside him. It felt instantly better than before, and though he didn't know the man from Eden, Sockeye was fast making plans to keep him exactly where he was.

"Oh, sure," he replied, his tail giving a quickly shimmy even though he did not, in fact, have any place in mind. "I'll tell you when we get to it. It's a nice place. Friendly. They've got a mess of kids, or kids on the way, one."

That was what he was hoping for, anyway.