Blackfeather Woods Listen

Cicero could not help but laugh a wry yet genuine laugh when Emélie mentioned that she wanted to live somewhere that she would not be judged by her actions. "One always gets judged based on their actions," he said, though his words were not meant unkind or correcting — merely food for thought. "Be it positively or negatively." He could see that Emélie might have a lot of qualities that Damien and Nemesis would find useful. He, himself, he did not care so much for someone's personality. He found that the wolves others found to be rash or arrogant were actually the ones that were the most predictable. Damien was a prime example of that. Most wolves were unpredictable, so wolves with such strong personalities at least gave some predictability to them.

But he was enjoying the conversation, even though Emélie seemed to think herself quite the bad wolf. It sounded like it came from a place, though; from her parents, as often seemed the case. He seemed thoughtful a moment until she said that he was not like the others. "Ah," he said, another thoughtful pause following before he added, "Cicero is indeed not like most inhabitants of the Woods. Most are not fans of philosophy and plant study. Cicero's qualities lay elsewhere." It wasn't that he was not much of a fighter — as a matter of fact, he had fought often, although his wounds were presently all healed, leaving behind only small scars that did little more than ruffle his already chaotic fur — but it was mostly that he did not look it, and often kept it far from the safe haven that the Woods provided.

"Cicero must be on his way now. Until later," he greeted and with those words he silently vanished into the darkness, as quickly as he had come.