The Sunspire you squandered your chances

The dark wolf's words cut through the infinite echo of weak in his head, though it takes him several moments to calm down, even as he listens. Any other time, Zephyr might have dismissed the words entirely, but his anguish and exhaustion have left him vulnerable, and he can't help latching on to any small measure of comfort he finds. There's something soothing about the other's voice, he decides, slowly tilting his head to fix argent eyes on the stranger's dark features. Something tightens and leaps in his chest at the pause, the tremulous breath and the words that follow, and for the first time he truly sees the wolf who'd followed him past the pack's borders.
Someone like me. The thought sticks in his mind, and suddenly he feels shy as the other continues, both undeserving of the advice bestowed on him and slightly resentful of it. For some reason, the thought that this wolf views him as a child stings. But he pushes it aside, embarrassed now by how quick he is to anger and to crumble. Weak, he reminds himself. But he could be strong — he could take the advice given to him, follow the example set before him. Couldn't he?
His head lifts slowly, slightly sheepish as he blinks away the tears, though his gaze never leaves the other. He almost seeks reassurance, or more advice; surely he could use a generous helping of each right now. Questions linger at the tip of his tongue, too, a flood of them waiting to pour forth. But the tightening in his chest holds him back, so instead he mumbles shyly, What — what's your name? His gaze falls slightly, landing on the other's white-streaked throat, and he tries not to imagine how it might feel to tuck his face against the fur there and steal a bit of the stranger's warmth. It's the cold, he tells himself, and firmly slams the door in the face of that feeling. He needs none of that weakness now, especially not in front of one so much stronger than he is.