Duskfire Glacier nature, nurture, heaven, and home

The smart reply was met with a brief scrunch of his brow, which soon melted back beneath the peppered fur. He relaxed a fraction, slowly coming to accept she was not here to haggle him over his (lacking) resources, or bully him out of his little den. However, he was uncertain if he would stay here now—she stood on the threshold of where he would sleep, and it didn't sit well with him; her knowing that. He didn't mention it.

She stepped forward again and was met with no resistance. Sitiyok huffed and pretended to look disinterested, turning a bit to take in the small mound of dirt he'd already kicked out of the den, though his coppery eyes still flickered back over to her every few seconds. There was a familiar air about her that he didn't want to place; he didn't want to be wrong, but a large part of him wanted to broach the subject. He didn't believe in fate, and wasn't about to preach about it now.

"You call the smoking mountain home," he commented; the smell of sulfur was trace upon her fur, but it was there. "but you are here. Why?" He could not fathom why wolves wandered without purpose, and quietly hoped she was not one of them.