Silverlight Terrace at war with oneself

His father had told him to go make more foxwolves, but he had never told how to do so exactly, and nor had he been present for such creation. He was oblivious. She turned him down, and there was a moment of disappointment as let his ears fall. "Oh," he said. "Is it too hard? I doos not know."

The breeze swept past them both, and quickly reminded him of the mess he was in. "Oh! Is it because I am smelling? Because I am not to be smelling all the time," he bobbed his head, renewed hope returning to his bright face accompanied by another grin. "Sometimes, when I am sniffing things, I rolls in it. I doos not know why. I hates it! But I can'ts help it. I just has to do this thing." He paused, and his brows pinched as he tilted his head curiously. "Doos this happen to you?"