Wheeling Gull Isle sprung off

Haoming didn't understand the words that spilled from the younger wolf's maw, but she kind of got the inclination. An invitation to sit with him. Now, normally Haoming did not like strangers - they were big and she needed to fight them, even if her mother did not understand that - but this was a smaller one (even if it wasn't by all that much.) She couldn't fight him. 

They did not speak the same language, either, it seemed. That was fine. A soft huff escaped her nose as she settled down into a seated position by the younger wolf, head tilted as she stared down at him. Maybe she didn't even have to talk at all. That was good - words were hard, and she never made them sound quite right. 

Raising a brow, Haoming leaned forward to place a paw against the other boy's cheek, giving it an experimental nudge.