Ankyra Sound the horseman

Kierkegaard was amused at the initial response. It appeared that the young lad was still as temperamental as he had been before. He snapped at the ragged grey man with a quick tongue and a sharp snap of his flashing blue eyes. Of course, the ghost was not intimidated by such a display from someone so young. With a chuckle, he began to wade back to the shoreline, where he shook the sea water free from his pelt and fixed a curious stare on the pale-furred youth. “You are a boy,” he rumbled in a gruff tone. It was a simple statement and one that could not be refuted unless Arrille wanted to put himself in a tight spot. Kierkegaard was not quick with his witticism, but he was not afraid to hold some means of sharp conversation with the ornery young man.

The blue-eyed wolf answered the inquiry with a disappointed sort of response. The older brute eyed his younger companion with a scowl and a quirked brow. “You're never going to get enough,” he grunted as a reminder to Arrille that life was not perfect and it would rarely ever present him with all that he needed to feel safe and at home. “Shit happens and the world doesn't owe you a damn thing to make it right again.”