Fox's Glade silver basilisk

stigmata quirked a brow faintly after the broad's parting words. he found it amusing that she tried to act like he was the waste of time only after he had grown dismissive of her; her self-righteous age on full display. as for this being misery, well... it wasn't enjoyable, but if she thought any of this was anything close to misery then it was clear she hadn't lived long enough to know what real misery was. this wasn't despair, this was only a setback. the hooded creeker didn't seem capable of differentiating the two; though he supposed that to most young wolves, minor things would seem major when they had nothing truly major to compare it to.

no wolf of lost creek seemed able to understand this. all of their woes and concerns revolved around the physical realm and didn't seem to extend beyond this. it didn't matter to them that the wolves they were taking in had shunned one of their own without question and despite civility; they weren't interested in what any of that meant or the underlying causes of it. they only cared for gossip and speculation, and he found that he had been right to not want in on their ranks.

the warhound watched her go, finding it bad tact to turn completely away from a stranger, but he saw no value to her life and didn't see fit to impart the advice. only when she was out of sight, did he continue on his own way, feeling a rebound to the buoyancy in his gait as his thoughts returned to its imperial prison.