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The brown wolf and he had never exchanged a word, but much had been said between them as they stood in solidarity against the inane behavior of a imbecile. For that was what the other black wolf had showed himself to be in Taggarik's mind, a wolf who had forgotten the ancestral language of the body, the single most important contributor to effective communication among any living creature. He had not thought back on that day, on either of those wolves, until now, when the wind swirled in on itself and floated a familiar scent past his vigilant nose.

The black wolf's paws stilled and he turned to look behind him. He could see the agouti male coming down his trail, and he shifted his hind-end to quarter toward the other wolf. He was a properly respectful fellow. Tagg's appraising eyes were quick to note the low stance of both ears and tail, and for this mindfulness his tail waved favorably, its cadence directly proportionate to how well received the other was. A soft woof of greeting was issued, and he stood with the same neutrality he had shown out on the terrace that day, before he had become stiffened with righteous offense.