Whitebark Stream mice with swords

A single-worded answer came: Surya. Artyom's expression dropped immediately, and was sure he felt his heart skip an uncomfortable beat. Had this yearling come to deliver news on the fate of his comrade, having fallen in his search for Aphrodite? An elaboration came swiftly, however, and he exhaled heavily in relief; this was merely someone searching for his brother.

"Surya lives here," he said carefully in mind of the boy's clumsy version of common tongue, and dipped hs muzzle to accompany his words, "he is scouting for a missing packmate, and will hopefully be back in a few days."

The enquiry that followed came as a surprise, and was a little confusing for him. Artyom blinked, unsure if the stranger was asking if he was a father or his father, so took a moment to consider how best to answer. Having never shared the company of a receptive she-wolf before Dawn, there was absolutely no chance who could've sired Surya and his siblings. "I'm a new father," he said with an awkward little smile, "but not yours." A gentle rise and fall of a shoulder - sorry.