Totoka River cherry soul

As her voice rose, his beseeching gaze dropped; ears flickering backwards with a poet's cowardly sensibilities. He didn't appear to otherwise mind or find fault in her sharpness with him— perhaps used to something sharper still— instead he seemed rather quick to respond to her terseness, just after his swift recovery from an initial flinch. "ηγέτης," he said first, on impulse; then more firmly, and in the common language: "leader. I want you to be my—"

He perked up suddenly, rising smoothly to his dapper height and tensing each of his vibrating muscles as another wolf, and agouti male, came charging up. Teleklos' lip curled and his ears slicked back; defensive towards the sudden aggression shown. The she-wolf's scent made him instinctively protective of her, even if he did not know her, but it quickly reached the fringes of his addled consciousness that these two wolves were together and he was the odd wolf out.

The bard sheathed his grimace and turned his head away from the male, hackles stiffening as he did so. Though he tucked his muzzle back and didn't seem inclined to a fight (or answer any inquiries from the lesser packwolf), his gloss-umber eyes continued to glance helplessly in the direction of the she-wolf, who commanded this situation entirely. Like a dog he searched for clues; clues she wanted him gone, or by some slim, miraculous chance she wanted this other driven brute gone.

Teleklos waited to obey.