Gyrfalcon's Keep like you hate me now

Marruz's single indigo orb glinted a cryptic light as he was first addressed by those wide, doe-like orbs. His mind had already conducted the preliminaries — that is, registered said target's abnormally petite stature and, perhaps in compensation for this, her surplus of affability. Such conclusions tangled with the boy's inner tides, which ebbed and flowed with malice and enmity for such cavalier buoyancy.

At first, he only blinked at the girl's words. His broad shoulders and lanky frame almost seemed to shimmer, as though a glitch, in the twilight air. In his mind, he kept repeating, she does not know me, but she trusted me. And he believed that she could only be described as one of two things: a stupid wolf or one who will learn. Today, he figured, he would not be the brutal harbinger of reality. No, for they were stargazers tonight.

And then, on paws as silent and gentle as the drifting snow, he settled a few paces adjacent the tawny she. His only response was the release of a single, small cloud from his lips. The world had grown colder, but there was warmth in this stranger's grin.

It helped when the first star appeared. Marruz instantly took notice of its feeble light, and within seconds he was free to traverse the open expanse once more; free to lose the bonds of gravity and of life. Soon, the sky would be a wholesome black, and when the stars flecked white holes within the void, it would mirror his own inky flank, dotted by fallen snowflakes. It would become like it always was: a rotating collection of stories; an endless library.

"What is your favorite constellation?" And his voice, though of youthful construction, was monotone; struggling to combat the turmoil that urged him to turn and run - run back to the Weald, and further still, to where his brothers would not be.