Wapun Meadow don't make this about the mustache.

it had been some time since he'd left the creek, and aditya was feeling the intense need to stretch his legs. there was such a thing as cabin fever, even with two charming children and the beautiful woman who mothered them. he was a wanderer by nature, always. nothing would ever change that. 

and nothing would ever change his natural friendliness, either. across the meadow, he spotted the young woman, and gave her an amiable chuff, trotting toward her with tail wagging high. the language barrier still existed, but it was improving day by day. and, perhaps, she spoke his mother's language. a slim chance of that, but one that heartened him nonetheless. 

hello! he called out -- one of the several words in the common tongue he'd managed to snatch back.