Fox's Glade Get nothing done

After a few silent beats it seemed that the other did see him. Charles watched him, and he thought of what some others had said about a killer being on the loose. Was that the one who had killed his aunt? Charles felt guilty that when he thought of aunt Indra, he didn't feel bad at all about her death. He only vaguely remembered her anyway. He didn't remember very much what she looked like or who she was. It was weird. Sometimes he felt a bit relieved that she was gone, but then he felt really guilty. Mother would kill him if he would ever confess his true feelings about aunt Indra.

While Charles diverted his mind the dark presence had come to the stream and leaned down for a sip as well. It's good, Charles said, referring to the water. Why did he just say that? He felt a bit dorky about it, though his face didn't betray any of this. The other lifted his head and Charles for a moment expected him to leap, from the stream, water still dripping from his chin, to Charles' neck, spilling blood everywhere. But instead he spoke and asked for Charles' name. Charles, he said, and the coywolf looked expectantly at the dark wolf as he waited for either a comment on Charles' name or appearance or for a name to be given in return for his.