Emberwood am i bleeding from the storm?

mato had taken him in with his confidence, with his hand extended to pull delight from the horror of his recent history. this boy is not like that at all, and yet he cannot help but be charmed (and well, okay, the compliment helps, it's been a while since he was able to preen his ego and he's always liked it when his name is well met and not instantly mocked.)

"alarian," delight repeats, tilting his head slightly. the embarrassment fades off his face into something sharper -- not mean, intrigued. "i do," he answers, briefly indicating the direction tindome lay with his nose, "a pack named tindómë. what about you?" he can smell the pack on the other (pity, he likes when he can bring strangers home) but it isn't sunspire or any of the others he vaguely scented on his journey to the vale. for a moment delight worries that he's from that group queenie and jomyo and the sunspire wolves got into a fight with, but he quickly shoves that aside -- alarian looks too small and shy to be from some aggressive interlopers group. 

and if he's wrong, well. he'll deal with that later.