Bearclaw Valley When your footsteps conquer the street

When Merrick asked the question, Ashlar's mouth went dry, but all was not completely lost.  Fortunately he had just had this conversation with another, kinder stranger, and the words he'd said somehow leapt into his brain unbidden.  He couldn't know how they would come across to these strangers but he needed to try.  How would Ashlar make his own way if he always relied on mama to introduce him to others?  To speak for what he could achieve?

Ashlar swallowed and tried to straighten, but only succeeded minutely.  He did lift his eyes to glance at Merrick, but quickly looked away from the distressing sight of his face towards Skoll instead.  I.. umm.. I c..can help.  I help hunt and f..find plants.  A..and...  Ashlar had almost gone on to share the thing that he loved most to do, but he paused.  Sometimes he was encouraged, but sometimes he was teased, and the mocking manner of the leader gave him hesitation.  Singing was not a skill a pack could value no matter how he loved to do it.

But what else could he share?  I want to l..learn.  He finished, a little lamely, the decline in volume seeming to match his declining hope that he might match up to what they were hoping to hear.  Ashlar feared what being turned away meant for his independence, but he also feared what being accepted would bring.  This place was not home and these wolves were not like his family. 

Who did that to his face?  Why?