Duck Lake The Tingler

Phocion raised his eyebrows, surveying Engel with a gaze that could have been icy, had his natural warmth not bled through. "You should," he urged gently, smiling. He gave a quick nod up to the stars. "They're always listening, though you might not see them all the time. In the day, they sleep. As should we."

He shrugged, feeling despondent all of a sudden. Even though he had once very much been a wolf of the day, the culture down south had groomed him to be the opposite. He found it very much displeasing to go back to his old ways, and he wished he could find someone who kept the same schedule.

"The wolves here are. . .diurnal," he said, a little uncertain on the last word. He had heard it somewhere, and had a general sense of what it meant by context, but wasn't sure if he was using it properly. "They walk in sunlight and sleep under the moon. My patterns are very much the opposite."

Phocion gave Engel a measured look. "And you?" he asked, his tone bordering on an interrogation. "You're up late. Do you keep to the sun, or hunt with the stars?"