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Goldry leaned back as a cold breeze slipped its fingers through his coat and tousled his fur. Below him, the sluggish mist slithered along the wind current while rain clouds sailed across the wan moon. The mountain niches, cracks, and caves groaned, and the susurrus of the trees sounded like whispering ghosts. Vehiron padded closer to the edge, and his clicking claws echoed dully off the rocks. Goldry smiled. In virtually any other circumstance, he would have bared his teeth, growled, and bristled from nape to tail if forced to share such close proximity to an acquaintance, a stranger, a man; but Vehiron had responded well – better than he predicted: answering neutrally without apathy – so Goldry let him approach without reprisal. The agouti wolf remained fluid and relaxed. His eyes softened. His smile remained. What he thought he saw in Vehiron was this: honesty and honor – enough for Goldry to assume Vehiron wasn't a telltale – combined with a rational emotionalism distinct from the raw instinct he saw in Tonravik. Goldry thought this meant Vehiron was his own person rather than an archetypical soldier loyal only to the word of his general. In other words, he was someone Goldry could trust in more ways than one. Or so he hoped. Time would tell, of course. He could be completely mistaken, and he knew he would soon learn if that was the case. For now, all Goldry could do was accept Vehiron's open-faced camaraderie while, with careful, measured words, he tested the possibility of trusting him. “Oh?” he said as he leaned back against the breeze. He realized Vehiron seemed keen to fit in; and although Goldry wished to speculate on this, he knew he couldn't reasonably understand why without learning more about him. Vehiron didn't strike him as one who'd seek solidarity in someone else's pack out of insecurity, so there must be a good reason. Vehiron's second statement, spoken as the breeze lulled and silence engulfed the mountainside, piqued Goldry's interest even further and gave him the opportunity to attain the insight he was looking for. His ears perked. “Prove yourself?” he repeated. “How? To whom?” Goldry shook his head. “Ack. Sorry. You don't have to answer that.”

Table by Noire