Shy Deer Steppes the darkness was over the face of infinite space

Commune. Cicero wondered what, precisely, she meant by that word, and he was instantly intrigued by her and the situation. Cicero realised he ought to go out and about more often — other wolves interested him, and the more he met, the more his fear for the white wolf flowed away. Her next words were laced with more mystery. When he looked around, he saw barren lands, but the wolf in front of him saw more to it. Potential, perhaps. Or simply a place to commune with... Whatever she was communing with. Or perhaps she meant communing with Cicero.

So many answers that only drew in more questions; just the way he liked it. A smile to mirror hers spread across his narrow face. He knew nothing of a lord, but he was interested to find out. And so, like her, he countered her question with mystery: "Perhaps." Cicero glanced about the barren lands before looking back at the female. "What does the lord say to the wolf?" He meant her, of course, but had no name to call her yet, and so she would simply be 'the wolf', as many before her.