Dragoncrest Cliffs when this pine sapling grows to flower, who'll be here?

Sobo angled back his ear, but didn't turn until he finished stripping the petals from the stalk. Admittedly, he was also being a little petty; the voice was masculine, and the only male wolf on the cliffs besides his siblings was Njord, and his father owed him a whole lot more than a sound in his throat for his treatment. He considered ignoring the man outright, but reminded himself that he had stripped Njord of his title as da and had no reason to linger on feelings.

When he straightened up, it was not his slate-furred father, but a heavyset nut brown wolf with telling streaks of grey around his whiskers and temples. Much older than either Njord or Sobo, Gunnar more closely resembled Rosalyn than anyone. Oh, said Sobo, surprised to see another man in Sapphique, and an unrelated one, at that.

Before he could say much more to excuse his rude behaviour, Gunnar identified the plant, distracting him. Yes, dat is right. I be Sobo. You be knowin' de plants?