Firefly Glen And a Song Well-Sung is a Sung-Well Song So Sing

Gawain became visibly relieved as the woman responded to his question with a real answer, his head tipping  forwards slightly. Though in reality the name meant virtually nothing to him, the young wolf was grateful for anything, even just a title to give this place. It helped, he supposed, for Gawain to have names for things. If he had names, he could have some sort of organization, as rudimentary and poor is it may be, and that was enough. Enough for now, at least. His ears perked a bit when the woman mentioned a lake; He and Mauri had recently come across a lake in their travels, and now the yearling had a better understanding of how much territory was between him and his sister. He nodded slightly, mulling over the distance silently in his head. 

Thank you, his rough voice murmured softly, though it was unclear to what exactly he was thanking her for. All of it, he supposed. The help with direction, and her kindness, and the help with the fucking burrs...the conversation (if it could even be called such), even, he reluctantly admitted to himself. Gawain tipped his head back to observe her ministrations once more, trying to be subtle about his curiousity, he really hsould have better self control. Showing interest in such a mundane task was not something Gawain should be allowing his mind to fill up space with. He needed to focus all of his attention on getting himself somewhere, getting Mauri somewhere, safe. Reluctantly, the yearling tore his eyes away and attempted to gather his thought enough to start working on a plan for what direction he should start moving in next.