Broken Boulder the sweet far thing

To Ico, the other's stare suggested dominance, which of course the smaller roamer readily accepted, blinking away as if once more to inspect the broken boulder. In doing so, he barely noticed that the stranger was lost in his thoughts — in much the way Ico often was.

But he looked back up at the sandy fellow, alarmed at the sudden generousity. Ico's brown eyes said really? But it would be foolish to utter this outloud; he should instead be gracious, and not risk this rare and golden opportunity. "Oh, thank you so much..."

Ico edged forward, low to the ground, then the first bite of dead prey flooded his conscience with relief as he realised his lifespan had just stretched a little longer. This was so much nicer than the bird. Careful not to speak with his mouth full, Ico asked meekly; "you run with a pack?" Something about the way the horse-wolf had phrased it — "living with some friends" — made him seek confirmation. Besides, to Ico, who'd been rejected from one border to the next, a group of friendly wolves was an exotic thing indeed.