Porcupine Ridge Just a ghost running scared

Anwyl didn't expect the response he was given. The tawny brown male seemed to disregard his words. Perhaps he didn't understand. Anwyl had heard of wolves who didn't speak. Whether the brown male couldn't understand, or couldn't hear, Anwyl didn't know. But at least he seemed friendly. Farstep extended his neck to sniff at Anwyl's soft forehead. He bowed down, allowing the male to do so, obviously Farstep was more dominant than him and he didn't want to come off as rude or disrespectful. If the male didn't understand speech, Anwyl would have to get more instinctual with his actions.

Once the older wolf finished getting used to Anwyl's scent, the yearling reached forwards to sniff him return, with permission of course. So far he liked Farstep, the male's lack of comprehension for speech intrigued him. He was tempted to ask why he couldn't understand, but that wouldn't do any good. All he could really do was ponder. Curiosity flared inside his pale blue eyes as he took in his new pack mate's scent. He'd definitely never smelled it before. Then again pretty much all of Teekon Wild's scents were unfamiliar.