Blackfeather Woods And burn the gloomy world to ashes

Akela. The name didn’t ring any bells, but that didn’t matter. He would at least try to remember the elder’s name, if only because he was appreciative of the fact that his own had been known. The fact that he was the Beta also played a role in the silent reminder to himself, but it only counted towards less than half of his reasoning. He considered going back on his decision, however, when his second questions was answered with a sarcastic tone. To that, a glare settled into his odd eyes, directed at none other than the man before him. The look lessened, slightly, when another answer was given, though it lacked specifics. He wasn’t one who really liked vague responses, but didn’t bother asking for a more in-depth explanation. It was a scar, so he probably got himself into some sort of trouble—trouble that Xan didn’t care about.
 
A query was sent his way, then, earning the Inuit's is focus. “Yeah,” he answered, keeping it simple at first. “My eyes don’t hurt here, and it feels nice.” He elaborated a bit, but didn’t go too far into the details on why he was liking the woods. Something about it appealed to him more than the valley ever had, though the valley had housed a wolf he’d been unable to tolerate.