Blackfeather Woods I'm done with having dreams

Cicero was momentarily distracted by Koume as he noticed her first, though soon put attention back upon the pup as Koume did not near further. Vaguely grateful that she would not chase him from the pups, as he could have imagined any of his relatives to have done, he turned back to the pup who was still slobbering over the meat. It did not do him very well, Cicero could tell once the pup abandoned the meat, as it had mostly gotten, well, moist. Not very eaten.

The pup was vigorous, that much was for sure. It was enthusiastic; Cicero wondered if it would stay that way once it realised what it was and what it looked like. And especially: how that reflected upon how others saw him. Strange, he philosophised idly, that wolves should put so much esteem in the opinions of others and feel differently as they grow up based upon these opinions. Well, most wolves, he supposed. Perhaps this weirdly shaped pup had inherited enough of his father's genes not to.

"Op?" repeated Cicero with a tilted head. "Are you hungry? Cicero could chew some of that up." He licked his lips as he gestured at the slobbery meat to emphasise his offer.