Silvertip Mountain Energy is the gift of youth

As the older male’s chuckle filled the air around them, Alastor could not help but allow his tail to sway faintly. Already, he found he liked the grey wolf, and hoped to become better friends with him over time. His kindness was not something that would ever be forgotten, that was for sure. At the mention of tale-telling, the boy’s ears perked up a bit, and his head even tilted in a way similar to how a confused puppy might. “You’re a storyteller?” he questioned, a smile across his maw and curiosity in his pale eyes. He recalled Fitz having mentioned the other was pursuing the chronicler trade, but hearing him mention it for himself seemed to make it all the more true. The argent Greek had been a sucker for a good story when he was younger, having always paid close attention when his mother decided to share a tale with him and his siblings. It hadn’t always been as fun as learning about the different plants, but was definitely more enjoyable than lesson revolving around self-defense.
 
Alastor had to think for a moment, when another idea was presented to him. Deciding that it sounded like a good one, he gave a quick nod of his head. “That sounds like a wonderful plan,” he commented, already having grown a bit more excited. Once Chaska had started to trot away, the younger followed after him, happy to be in the company of another. As they walked, a question popped into his mind. “What type of stories do you tell?” There was no hiding the interest in his tone, not that he wanted to. The foreigner’s mother had told him stories of the Gods and Goddesses, of mythical creatures and adventurers. Each one had seemed to be different, but never any less entertaining than the others. It gave him a sudden desire to want to know what type of lore-sharer his companion was, whether it be stories of grand adventures and heroes, or of villains and terrible deeds.