Moonspear profi'r dyfroedd

Had any other wolf thrown such an insult toward his name, they would have been met with his exit from the scene, at best; at worst, his teeth. His name was, after all, his greatest treasure in life, apart from family. But this is a child that stands in front of Llewellyn. Her outspoken opinion takes him aback for a second or two, before his maw cracks wide in a smile. Out of the mouths of babes, indeed!

"I was named for Llewellyn the Patriarch, a great warrior, my ancestor who died many, many, many seasons ago," he explains patiently, settling down on his haunches. "We have kept the name in the family ever since. But yes. . .I suppose it is a bit funny. And a mouthful," the prince adds, eyes glimmering with humor as he looks down at her. "Your name is much easier to say. Yami. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Her next question is much easier to tackle. "I am new to your pack," Llewellyn continues. "I came from a land very far away from here, looking for a home. One day, I saw this mountain, and I met Charon at the border. He allowed me to stay here. Is Charon your father?" he queries, tilting his head, almost--but not quite--a mirror image of her own curiosity.