King Elk Forest don't pretend

she asks for his name as he follows after her, pace slow. bi-colored gaze darts yearningly to the direction of the elk, stomach aching and hollow; but reminds himself that she offers food. without much choice other than to trust her, he lets out a sigh thru his black, leathery nostrils and trudges after her. his legs still tremble but it is easier to ignore it the more he walks. of course i have a name, he wants to sniff but every time his lips parts to speak, pain radiates from the injuries there; a metallic taste dances upon his tongue and he clamps his jaws shut.

what did his name matter?

she could call him whatever she wished and he tries to communicate this with a hard shrug of his shoulders.