Tuktu Weir I’m No Hero

Dakota stares blankly at the wolf for just a few seconds then barks out a hearty laugh at the others question. Maybe there is something wrong with him. He laughs internally. His long canines on display as he laughs, the laugh isn’t malicious; it’s more amused at the others possible close-mindedness.

The dog sees the way he shifts, he’ll give it to him, he has a good amount of confidence that is impressive for his age (which Dakota assumes is fairly young) but he can see just a pinch of uncertainty. He doesn’t blame him, he’s sure meeting other wolves is nerve-racking, especially if all wolves are as blood hungry as he’s heard.

Dakota’s laugh died down some time ago as he observed this stranger. He turns his back on the other and spins casually around to end up further from him. Doesn’t want to make the other uncomfortable.

Dakota has a sense of carelessness, he acts like nothing’s a big deal. A certain, almost annoying, uncaring way he lazily walks about. Then his honey eyes gaze to the other. “Oh, you have a lot to learn.” He comments. “Sure, killing will always be a part of a wolf’s life. Though if you refuse to see the life behind it–the advantages and friendships–it will cloud your judgement; consume your soul. And a whole bunch of other crazy shit like that.”

He says this gradually getting more and more serious. His sunny eyes getting more intense then all of a sudden it’s gone and he’s got that casual smile across his face again. “Might not sound so bad, but it will help you more than hurt you.” He shrugs, walking casually towards the lake and pawing the ice.