King Elk Forest when i was a child

since i don't think i stated what time of the day this took place, i went with afternoon - hope that's ok!

 

She offered him a greeting, simple and her name soon followed nary a breath after. Her tone was perceived by the bithiúnach as amiable, and the smile she flashed him was warm. Following his silent moments before, the debonair beast contemplated it such a rare thing. His reputation had proceeded him to the neighboring packs of Quicksilver Hollow and it took some reminding that in these Wilds his reputation had yet to follow him. Nevertheless, it clung to him like a parasite and the Fearghal deduced that it would not take long for word to spread. It rarely did. There was some part of Arturo, the very oppressed part of him that considered a simpler life, that considered these Wilds as a fresh start, a chance to find his redemption ark; but such things did not interest the melanistic coywolf and as quickly as the sliver of consideration came Arturo was quick to toss the errant prospect aside, his scoff at the idea contained in, quite literally, the nick of time. He passed it off as a small yawn and stretched as if to put off that he'd just recently awoken from a nap.

“Afternoon, Miss,” The dapper Fearghal monarch offered her, every bit cordial and mannerly. He saw no reason why this couldn't remain cordial. He had half expected the wolves of these Wilds to be driven mad and feral by the skeletal state of their home — and was left pleasantly surprised that it wasn't the case. He was in no mood to fight, not when his energy could be better spent in keeping food in his belly. If his intuition was correct, surviving the pestilence that wracked these lands would take much of his focus, strength and time. “I am Arturo; Arturo Fearghal.” His sire-name was the most important part of his introductions: thus he always included it. He wanted those he came across to remember it — regardless of which side they saw of him.