Silvertip Mountain The brown ghost

The first impression that Vectra conveyed was one of kindness, but also uncertainty. She shifted in place as she spoke and cast around as if looking for something. Itsuki, on the other hand, was statuesque, with nary a movement to betray his inner timidity. Only the wind brushing his coat into soft, plush waves and the slow blink of his eyes and twitching of his ears suggested he was animate. They couldn't have been more different, at least in that moment.

Though he didn't verbally respond to her initial greeting, his warm smile acknowledged it well enough. “I am Itsuki Keizo,” he softly introduced himself, ever the formal man that his mother had raised him as. “The Kappa.” Granted, the Keizo had never put a lot of stock into the names given his various ranks in life. For him, it was all about who was willing to submit to his superiority and who was not that determined his place in the pack. He did not make designs on others' ranks, for he wasn't terribly ambitious anyway.

Something she'd said had captivated him, so with a flick of his head, the tawny male invited her to walk with him. “Have you never been with a true pack, then?” he wondered aloud, his voice quiet and deep as always, even though true interest and curiosity lay at its root. A family was a pack to him, but he didn't say that, for he wanted to hear her take on it.