The Bracken Woods Weep for yourself, my man

Perhaps it was unfitting for a leader, but the boy's ears swept back in dismay and his head lowered further when the stranger's hackles rose. Conflict was the last thing he wanted right now. Any other day, Ali might have openly admired the other male; he was striking and handsome, alabaster with a hood of smoky grey continuing down his back. Today, he only felt apprehension.
Alarian tried not to tremble at the other's words-- the language was foreign, but he understood the wolf's tone. He wondered if this wolf didn't speak the common tongue, but not for long. Caught off-guard, the boy only stared for a moment.
Alarian. It was almost a whisper. He scolded himself internally for sounding so timid-- he was supposed to be a leader! The only one, now. Ali stared hard at the ground, trying to will away the flood of cold dread in his chest at the return of the thought. Desperate for some distraction, he forced out his own mirror of the question. Who are you?
After a few beats he dared a brief glance over the stranger. Are you lost?