Moonspear halfway to a donut

Harley held down his anger and awaited the strangers words, but it seemed none was coming. The wolfdog couldn't help the growl rumbling deep in his chest, but it didn't fall from his lips. A child, was he? Even the milky male had to admit, he was considerably smaller than all the wolves here, but he knew there was some basic fighting skill somewhere. the wish to fight, however, was not. Only the will to learn, even if it meant swallowing pride.
      "Youths are meant to be taught."
He fixed Lazarus with a calm, steady amber gaze. From here, they could develop some bond and become, possibly, friends, or the brute could turn him down. Hopefully, the former. The red-tipped male had no real friends, and was getting very lonely. Would he stay on the mountain if he couldn't get along with the wolves here?