Larksong Grotto You pray it all away but it continues to grow

The pale wolf's nose, focussed entirely upon the scent of the polecat, is invaded by the scent of another wolf. A female, not far off. His lip twitches in mild irritation. He had closed in upon the polecat when she approached him and from the corner of his blue eye he sees the creature dart off in a seemingly impossible direction. 

Vegas is wise to the cruelty of the world as, much like the young woman's past, his homeland had been ravaged by wildfires of a dry summer, separating him from his natal pack. But the snowy wolf is not, in fact, wise to the cruelty of others yet and for this the tawny adolescent is lucky. He meets her friendly gaze with an amiable one of his own, large blue eyes more curious than irritated. The polecat, he reasons, was skinny and probably diseased anyway.

His long tail sways as he continues to regard her, clearing his throat before he responds, "Me - me neither. What's your name?" He offers a sweet half smile.