Firefly Glen they say no one is living here

What was he?

Oh, goodness, Cavendish felt utterly useless to these wolves who all seemed to ask him the same thing. Perhaps it was just their way and he was far too much of an outsider to understand that they did not know creatures like him. It was a biological question that they were asking, but the willowy hound was not entirely capable of answering it. He felt an utter fool for having to evade such a direct inquiry, but he knew no better. It was not in him to answer such things; he simply was what he was.

“Oh dear, I do believe I'm rather poor at answering this query,” he informed her in an apologetic tone. The lean figure dipped his head regretfully and breathed a heavy sigh. “I am... a royal of Roseweald Hollow,” Cavendish then decided with a curling smile and a confident nod of his slender skull. Surely, that was what she had meant when she'd asked. Perhaps they knew of his people, or they had heard of the great things his brother had accomplished while serving as a knight to his home.