Bearclaw Valley the wake [m]

Uly tilts his head–a black wolf? The others apparent shadow. She follows him then? Has she been following this whole time? He wonders and anxiously flicks his eyes around for a second at the mention of her. Then the devious grin the other gives him is interesting to say the least, an emotion connected to it that  Uly can’t quite put a name to. Though the clear affection in his voice causes Uly to furrow his brows in mild confusion, but perhaps also something else.

Then he asks the question once more. The wolf mix gives a thoughtful hum as his response. “I have not seen her.” He says matter-of-factly, curious as to how he’s missed her. 

Though certain feelings swirl inside him, a twisting in his gut that he’s sure he can place, but doesn’t want to. Silver eyes never leave the coys own copper one. “I cannot say what I think of this wolf. I have not met her.” He comments giving another cautious glance around them, silver eyes coming to land back on the coy wolf. The mutt attempts to stay neutral about the wolf the coy speaks of so affectionately. Although he’s curious as to what the extent of their relationship is and can’t help the prickly feeling that races up his spine.