Swiftcurrent Creek hurray for the riff raff

Yellow eyes swiveled sideways (not bothering to cease his drinking) as the pile of rocks young female trounced over, beckoning him in an accent he couldn't place. Haunter's laps slowed as his gaze acknowledged her, only half-concentrating on the halfling as he was yet unsatisfied with his drink, but listening nonetheless. She asked him then if his name was Atticus, and before he could swallow his last tongue-full in order to answer her, she was firing off another question about his ear.

Haunter swung his head towards the youth, drawing his salmon-pink tongue over his dripping chops and then answering her flatly: "No." It was an answer to serve for both questions from the young, pewter-tinged female, and he blinked at her languidly in the expectation of more. Had he been a more interesting or joking wolf, he might've explained to her that one ears were all the rage this year.

She smelled freshly of the Creek, so he didn't bother asking if she actually belonged here, though he had wondered as such at first (despite seeing her as a non-threat). He wondered a lot of things about this young wolf, but lacked the social capacity to ask right away.