Morningside Cuesta king of the hill

Hawthorn hadn't talked much. In fact, he hadn't talked at all, well, at least, not to his new soon-to-be packmates. It wasn't that he was anti-social, or that he was bad with words. Quite the opposite, really. Nor was it because he was bad-looking, because he wasn't. Again, the opposite was true. Though he did not claim to be an expert in male beauty, he couldn't help but decide that he was the epitome of male beauty, vain as it might be. Or at least, he was growing into one. When Haw wasn't spending time thinking about such things, he was exploring - usually alone, though he welcomed a companion sometimes.

At his age, Haw is relatively large, his features sharpening slowly. Still, he is not clumsy and navigates the territory with surprising ease, though at times, he still demonstrates acts that remind others that he is still, if nothing, a child. Exploring brings him to see a strange female that Haw has not talked to before. He stayed there, silent, curious, head cocked with a smile dancing on his lips and brilliant twinkle in his bright blue eyes.