Blackfeather Woods And burn the gloomy world to ashes

The child continued to trudge forward until he heard the steps of another creature coming towards him. With the sound came the strengthening of the unknown scent, and the eventual appearance of a wolf far larger than himself—but let’s face it, nearly everyone was currently bigger than him. He trailed his eyes up the male’s form until he reached his face, then stopped walking. He didn’t know the wolf, having never met him, but somehow the elder knew him by name. That was a pleasant surprise, seeing as the Inuit often felt everyone should know him by name, appearance, and so on. It was due to the natural reserve of arrogance he’d been born with, which often became apparent shortly after speaking to him. The fact that the man not only knew his name, but had also called him by his preferred nickname, was a major ego booster. “Yeah,” he said, confirming the shadow’s words despite the all-knowing tone he’d used. “Who’re you?” He felt asking for the other’s name was the least he could do.
 
Xan didn’t wait for an answer to be given before tossing out another query. “What happened to your face?” The boy lacked a filter, as many children his age did. He felt no shame in asking the man about his flawed appearance, nor did he care to be discreet about it. There was no use in beating around the bush, after all. Especially when it came to a child's curiosity.