Hoshor Plains Does not compute

The nick in his ear from the fight with the black bitch of Blackfeather Woods had long but healed, along with the cut on the bridge of his muzzle which was now fading into a pale scar. Those injuries no longer bothered him, not that they had in first place, but they no longer hurt or annoyed him in any manner. The boy was not as lucky however, it seemed to the aspiring Lajak that his wounds had not fully healed yet. Curiosity burned like wildfire beneath his breast, and he wished to ask the boy how he had obtained the wounds but refrained from doing so. Not yet, he told himself, Not yet.

The boy lowered his head respectfully which was enough for Azzaro for now as he knew that this wolf was not far beneath him anyways. "Azzaro," the agouti Dotharan said in their language with a tilt of his proud crown, unabashedly running his striking ivory eyes over the younger wolf's form, admiring the streamlined muscles beneath his companion's silvery fur. Lanky or not, the boy was not entirely without muscle.

"What's yours?" he threw back at the boy, flashing his fellow Dotharan a charming smile as he did so. Names did not really matter to the aspiring Lajak, usually, he gave them nicknames of his own just for the fun of it, but he supposed he would have to make 'conversation' with the boy for now.