Lion Head Mesa Canis Major, Canis Minor, Canis... Mediocris?

The sight of the young wolf that he had poisoned weeks earlier intrigued Cicero and was enough to captivate his interest. With a limp to his step, the hardened bubbles on his leg proof of cause, Cicero started making his way to the Mesa, where the boy had been hunting for something, it seemed, though not successfully so. He felt a pang of compassion for the boy's sad expression, but approached with neutral expression on face.

As he noticed the quiet wolf, Cicero prodded her side with his nose, offering her a chance to remain unseen should she wish it so, and warning not to betray him (though she had no means to).

Then he strafed to the side, approaching from a different angle should the quiet wolf wish to remain unseen, and ears directed forward he approached the boy. "Oh my goodness!" he exclaimed, easily slipping into the character he had played that day. "You're okay! I can't believe it! When I returned you were gone, but then, I'd been searching for some time. Did it wear off? Did it stay for long?" Cicero looked at the boy with widened eyes as though he could not believe that the boy was still alive after all that he had been through. Hopefully he would once more snatch the bait, as Cicero felt he had given him little reason to mistrust him for more than an honest mistake of gullibility.