Forget Your High Society

After being given the confirmation that the wolf was, in fact, alright, the boy considered continuing on his way. After all, he had a full day of moping and dragging himself around everywhere ahead of him. He gave a simple bob of his head to show he'd heard the male's words, then allowed his glacier-like eyes to scan the area. He'd crossed through the part during his first trip to the marsh, and was fairly certain he would be able to make it out without falling into any majorly deep and muddy parts. Just as he'd decided on his path and was about to bid his farewells to the stranger, though, the silence was broken by the voice of the other. Alastor set his gaze on him and listened to what he had to say—or ask, to be more specific—before once again giving a nod of his head. He got the sense the man was new not only to the marsh, but to the Wilds as well. The Greek didn't bring it up, though. No matter his mood, he would never intentionally pry into the life of another. Occasionally a question would slip through his teeth, but he seemed to be doing well at keeping them in for the time being.

“I do know of a place,” the boy answered, his mind instantly recalling Duck Lake. It wasn't too far off, and certainly wouldn't try to eat him. The thought of any body of fresh water trying to eat a wolf brought a small smile to his face, but was wiped away once he reminded himself he was not suppose to be in a good mood. Then again, what harm could it do? The leader had not simply disappeared, but had explained why he needed to leave, and Alastor had respected his decision. If he could, he probably would have traveled back to his own birth home, but such a thing was virtually impossible. If he couldn't, however, then he knew he should be glad that at least someone could. “I could show you the way there, if you'd like,” he informed the stranger, his smile having returned.