Lost Creek Hollow deep within the most sacred grove

How intriguing—he anticipated another round of questions and answers, perhaps some sort of drawn out deliberation as to whether or not he would be worthy enough to stay. Even a test of his skills, his mettle, something. It was not the sort of thing that he would have decided on someone simply by a yes or a no, not so easily. It was however, the sort of thing that caught him by surprise enough to invoke just the faintest of reactions; his ears piqued briefly, his pointed muzzle lifting as though he needed to see for himself that he was not about to be run off like some common nuisance.

Green eyes watched as the wolf—Terance, he reminded himself—turned then, ushering him to follow. Seemed a tour was at hand and almost dumbly the coywolf fell in line with only a hesitant glance back to the waters that had brought him to a halt in the first place. He soon righted his line of sight, letting it wash over Terance again only to feel the same pinpricks of that peculiar sadness grasp him.

He wondered if perhaps he were projecting, though sorrow had been thoroughly scraped clean of him. He'd lost that right, drowned the emotion in himself somewhere ago in scrying pools many miles and weeks back. Still didn't out rule the possibility however, but he was not much of an empath by any means. Keen enough to sense the turmoil of others, but not enough to understand it. Not skilled or knowledgeable enough to decide whether it was of his own design or simply shards from another, and he never would be.

So he let it go in a reliving breath, intent to attempt to shed it against the wilting ferns they brushed past. ”You are a kind soul,” he offered as thanks, closing the distance then between them to something more manageable. Not too close, not too far, something that only felt respectable and let them move as a unit. It was time to learn now, time to grow.

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