Fox's Glade silvertongue

The phrase it takes one to know one was lost on the spindly crow, but he smiled at her anyway and his tail fluttered behind him. Then again, he did not understand fully why others would not like her for lacking an appendage. It furthered his belief that all wolves were predominantly cruel creatures and that they did not understand the importance of such differences. Tadec felt shamed that he would carry so much of their blood in his body. The black coyote would surely reprimand him when he found that he could no longer run.
 
“Others can be cruel,” he spoke softly, watching her with a soft expression. He had been told that the wolves were his enemies – the Elil – and would never bring him happiness, but he had found that not all of them were the same. “Tadec thinks Indra is touched by Frith,” he then added with a wider smile and a sure bob of his skull. Then, as if to explain himself, he turned his crown toward the sun and flattened his ears to his skull out of respect. It was true, after all; she wore the red coat of one who had been born to the summer. She breathed a warmth that he had never been blessed enough to witness in his short life.
 
But where she had been graced with the love and warmth of a Fritheer, Tadec had been born beneath the eyes of Inlé. They could not have been more different; she was of the sun and he was of the darkest reaches of the moon. It was in this realization that he did not wish to lose her, and so he peered on her with a small desperation and lowered his muzzle to show that he had no harmful intentions. "Where is Indra home?"