Broken Antler Fen rootbeer popsicle

Marcello met the smile with a deeply sincere one of his own, very glad to have met someone uninterested in causing a ruckus.

He took back the steps he'd taken away from the Fen and came within a more comfortable speaking distance. "Pleasure, Ambrosia." He replied with a casual flick of his russet ear. "I'm Marcello, general vagabond of 'Just-A-Tourist Forest'." He could see the appraising cant to her muzzle and maybe sat a little straighter than normal, maybe. It should have been obvious to him that many of the packs in the area could be searching for potential dispersal wolves to join their ranks. Spring was in full swing, and that usually meant more tiny mouths to feed. 

But he didn't think about that.

Her question prompted him to speak, even before he had a chance to think of a decent answer. "Eh," He stammered awkwardly, "No, sorry. I have a home, I'm just, well, visiting. There's rumors some of my distant cousins might be living out here. Figured I'd drop them a line and check in on how the other branches are doing, y'know?"