Seaside Moors Rhapsody in Blue

Quixote didn't like sharing -- anything really. If things had ended before the next round of questions, he would have been fine, but the more it dragged on, the more he wanted to bury the information she sought. Why should he tell this Ty wolf what she wanted when she had been the one to come up to him? He was more afraid of saying something he'd later regret -- not in the way of insults, but instead information he'd rather keep to himself or somehow committing well before he would want to -- than he was of giving a wrong answer.

Although it sounded like there wasn't anything else noteworthy, Quixote still kept an eye out for fine print that might pop up along the way.  There was always something.  While she was perplexed about his question, he was perplexed about hers.  Skills? Like did she need members to be able to run across a lake without sinking? Throw a rock and hit a bird? Sing? His interpretation was the word meaning something special, something he didn't really have. Normal ones? he said, in that sort of drawn out way that one might when unsure he even understood the question. Without clarification, it was the best he could do.  It wasn't really an unreasonable thing to think -- he was from a pack that didn't have much choice in the matter. You were what you were assigned (and notably, had to be able to fill any role), and any skill of extra note was from major achievements. Quixote wasn't old enough nor of high enough rank to have been able to get any glory of his own. Luck hadn't gone that way.

The things he was good at? Well those pretty neatly folded under "stuff you needed to do to survive" so he didn't consider them anything special. He did what was necessary without any fancy titles or the like.  He totally wouldn't make it in a circus.