Barrow Fields of empires that thought

though it is naïve to think that he will never run into strangers during these secret ( or not so secret? ) outings that scarab takes, scarab still finds himself feeling surprised when others appear. most of the time they are wandering strangers, vagabonds or pack wolves which draws scarab's natural thirst for knowledge: what are they doing out here so close to rusalka? and beyond that: how populated is the world outside of rusalka's borders? for the longest time rusalka had been the axis of scarab's world and everything beyond has felt like little more than a fantasy. the world beyond his home, as it turns out, is not a fantasy and much larger and more populated than he's assumed.

the man that appears with heavy footfalls and with a song to his lips: a strange song at that, that causes the curled hairs along scarab's nape to bristle with uncertainty, looks ...well, unlike any wolf that scarab's ever seen before. he's never seen such a chaotic coloration and patterning of pelage. scarab blinks slowly, assessing, even as the male drops into a playful bow before him. there's an imperious lift of the golden prince's chin before he blurts out, why d'you look like that?!? because he's rude and still lacks that necessary filter between his brain and his mouth that would have otherwise made him pause to consider that maybe this question might cause some hurt feelings.