Bearclaw Valley dancing with the devil

No, there would be no chance of sudden attack. Not from Evien, at least - the boy was a healer, not a fighter. Perhaps he had the potential to be a defender of sorts, but never an outright attacker. 

         Merrick seemed to fit the boy in front of him. It was rare to find someone smaller than he was, but there were subtle things about his appearance that suggested he might not be all wolf. That pointed muzzle looked almost coyote-like. Evien followed him, matching his pace. Their walk was leisurely, nonhurried and not urgent. This was what Evien had wanted - time to speak with him. 

         "I lived with my family," he responded, thinking back to them. His father's lithe figure - half red wolf. His mother's fat physique and gray eyes. His grandfather, willowy but strong. "A few month's travel, down south. We lived on the banks of a large river." He missed it there, regardless of how fucked up things had gotten during their last months together. 

         Green eyes flicked back to the other boy, scanning him over. "Where are you from?" he questioned in turn, genuinely curious.