Barrow Fields and drawing lines around my body to recall my place

He takes no mind to the stranger standing, hardly notices it in fact. He continues to allow the other to take up his attention. As they speak about them being part dog and they show off the curl of their tail, Donovan’s own curled appendage does the same unconsciously. Then both his brows go skyward when he says the word Akita. I’m a fucking Akita. He almost gasps internally. Now more questions swirl around his head. He’s never met one like himself or his mother. He wonders where they could be from. If that maybe, just maybe, themselves or their parents might somehow know each other. He’s knows it a trivial, childish thought but it plagues him nonetheless. 

He doesn’t say anything yet, but he’s sure the astonishment is written all over his face at finding another of his kind. So the other wolf-dog carries on the conversation onto a road Donovan drove right past — names. 

The larger male gathers himself enough to put his previous smile back on his face. “Donovan Azura.” He drawls in his masculine, yet smooth voice. 
“Pleasure.” He hums with a no-good smile and faux, innocent tilt of his head.

Then he immediately goes back to the topic at hand. Something he finds more important than he did previously. “Where are you from? Which of your parents was an Akita? Mother or father?” He urges in an unhurried, but child-like fascination. Eager to know if the possibility of knowing someone from his past life is here.