Little Goat Mountain a too-small mountain

Amsu bowed his head at Stigmata’s words, smiling. “Thank you,” he said, and watched the large, dark wolf walk away. He hoped they would meet again someday. Stigmata was, perhaps, a bit serious for Amsu’s tastes, but he was not one to turn down friends when they showed up. They were not friends yet. They hardly knew each other. But perhaps they would be friends one day. He certainly hoped so. Soon enough, Amsu rose to his paws and turned in the opposite direction from Stigmata, moving on.

[Exit.]