Sunspire Mountains Back in my hometown

Dusty didn’t have an answer for that, mainly because he’d only wanted to comfort the other wolf rather than argue semantics. Besides, he sort of liked the term rogue and was now thinking about adopting it for himself. He thought it sounded cooler than loner, at least, and not nearly so sorrowful, either. He’d been raised to believe that lonesome was about the sorriest thing a wolf or coyote could be.

So clearly, it was his duty to wrestle this poor creature. If only he’d known it had been a year or more since he’d last played such a game! Dusty might’ve wept for him, or he might just have played a little harder.

As it was, Dusty had made a game out of trying to turn Shey’s ears into chew toys. As soon as the other wolf bowed, he’d lunged for his face with his snipey maw, his many teeth shutting harmlessly over whatever piece of his new friend he could manage to get ahold of. And he was a quick fellow, sleek in form and wily in nature, but half the fun of a good wrestling match was tumbling to the ground. So he was easily caught if Shey tried, and with the extra pounds the other wolf had on him, he wasn’t terribly difficult to wrestle to the ground.