Hoshor Plains Feral hearts

The stranger speaks, once more in their native tongue, before attempting a default in the common. He narrows his eyes and glances back toward Wildfire, though he doesn’t linger for long. His attention, for the time being, returns and remains on the wolf he feels like he should know. His time in Trigeda had been limited before setting off after their collective leader and Vercingetorix’s return back to them had only occurred a few weeks ago, unlikely to have resulted in a wolf already so close—or, well, not so close.

“Gavriel kom Drakru. Seakru,” he introduces, turning his nose slightly toward her companion. “Wildfire kom Drakru,” is his only addition, separating her from Seageda.

It had never been uncommon for some wolves solely learning their native words between the clans but being so far from home, Gavriel knows he can’t depend on it. Though to hear it from a familiar wolf is comforting, he doesn’t have time to think much about why she is here and instead on how to get the wolf to Heda.

“Far from home,” he says in their native tongue once more, knowing Wildfire wouldn’t understand, but getting information felt more important in that moment than trying to stammer in words she’s unfamiliar with. “Heda has a new empire. You from Trigeda?”