Greatwater Lake and so the drum beats on

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A name is called on the breeze, and the boy lifts his head, alert to the finest point. He is but a child, but he is present in mind more than usual for the age he holds, and thus, the domineering instinct of survival inherited by both his sire and the family of his dame leaves him cautious of everything around him. While he knows the land, its tricks and its secrets, he does not know those within. Despite being born to a pack with more blood on their hands than those still alive, he has not taken to the savagery of his homeland just yet; he is defenseless. But the voice that calls lessens in roughness and into something of simple confusion, and the boy zero's in on that from which the call rings. The call is not for him.; his name is not Arrille.

The man before him is intimidating, but seemingly unsure of Vaati himself, and it confuses the boy; Vaati is a simple creature. He stares at the man with peircing blue eyes, questioning the other's explanation out of simple curiosity, if not, out of his own amusement,"Are you my father?'' He retorts nonchalantly, if not blatantly. But he does not suspect so. A father would know his son's name, but no man had come to claim the boy;  fatherless suited the child anyhow. He could not miss what he did not have in the first place. The boy tilts his head slightly, examining the other with a gaze as sharp as it was uncanny; optics narrowing on the sand-like socks that mimicks Vaati's own. But he does not act on the similarity, coincidences were evident within his life more than he knows. "My mother calls me Vaati, I am not your son," The child informs the man with a quirk of hs brow, gaze unwavering from the man's own crystalized eyes. But he does not have a mind to be delayed by a man looking for a son that is not him, and he casts the man a look as if to say, 'Can I go now?'

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