Emberwood ❝ten sí ye tyelma, yéva tyel ar i narqelion❞

He cocked his head, lips tightening in intrigued thought. Foraging, eh? he responded. Weel, I do prefer meat, but ye make a verra good case for berries. Pygmalion began to move toward her, caught up in the idea of conversation over a meal with the scarred woman. 

Then, a scent. A familiar scent. And a familiar voice that had him wheeling around, bowled over.

Pip! Pyg exclaimed, hopping a little in place as he took in the sight of his brother, in the flesh. My God, man, what're ye doin' here? Did ye follow me?! Not that he was angry with this development. . .not in the slightest! He just didn't figure that anyone would have traveled so far south; even he was surprised at his own voyage.

He spun a neat semi-circle, glancing at the she-wolf. My littermate, Pirrup—er, Pip. I'm Pygmalion, but ye can call me Pyg, he offered in breathless introduction, grinning.