Cassiopeia's View Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages

He was quick to note disappointment that tugged the corners of the boy's mouth downward as he looked his way, the obvious defeat in the sag of his shoulders. Dacio blinked down at him, quietly judging as he made to pass by, before familiarity brought him to an abrupt halt. 

His initial response was hesitant, and surprise brought a shine to the Klikalida's pastel gaze to hear this young stranger carry on in his mother tongue. Something stirred within his chest then, the excited skip of a heartbeat, and his expression softened to one of sheer relief.

This could only be Vercingetorix' cub, of that he was suddenly so sure.

His tail stirred then, a gentle assurance that he meant no harm. "A friend," he said with a soft edge to his words to accompany the hint of a smile that crossed his lips. It soon faded from his muzzle, replaced by a furrowing of concern in his brow. What the hell was he doing out in the open without a guard, with rogues on the prowl? "You must be Dragomir," Roangeda's sterling leader continued. He didn't bother to share his knowledge of those who hunted for the boy's pallid littermate, as he recalled how the Moonspear wolves shared with him how it was the children who first discovered their sire's body. Instead, he turned attention toward making mention of his own priority: "Praimfaya frets for you and your sister."