Cassiopeia's View little bird, i have branches above my head

A shiver of uncertainty tingled up his spine as her fiery eyes looked him over. Suddenly he was hyper-aware of his current state, the thinness of fat between his skin and ribs a clear indicator of his prior struggles during his travels. His fur was not as fleshed out as it should be at his age (having literally just turned four), he looked more akin to an adolescent at the moment with thin legs and unmatched gaudy paws. It was temporary as far he was concerned, but that didn't stop him from feeling uncomfortable about it in the eyes of a rather graceful stranger.

And her family's name was just as such. Déorwine. He echoed the lofty name to himself under his tongue. The brown wolf couldn't say he knew about it before now, but that wasn't surprising to him. Nonetheless, his focus honed in on what he gathered from her last sentence- she was a pack wolf. The first one he'd encountered so far.

The man still had his hesitations about joining a pack in this new land, but he had been thinking about it greatly. The coming winter wouldn't be kind to him alone... Distant howls of gathered wolves would tug at him forlornly. Though his outer expression didn't change (as it seldom did) his inner thoughts tumbled.

Kingslend... Quite a proud name. I wouldn't mind learning more about it. He tried to ride the edge of not being too forward, but still trying to communicate his genuine interest. 

I'm Henryk, by the way.