Wolf of the mist

His creamy muzzle tilted into a soft nod the moment she showed him her gratitude. Yet his ears flexed higher on the summit of his skull when she spoke of being chased by her former pack. A criminal? An exile? His stern green eyes looked over her wounds as he slipped another step closer before reclining back onto his haunches mere inches from her right side. His head lowering as he attempted to lick the nearest wound he could reach upon her silver painted body.

"Chased?" He would inquire between his attempts at cleaning one of her wounds. "What was your crime?" If he was in the vicinity of someone who could not be trusted then the young prince wished to find out now rather then later. Less he fall prey to her tricks.