Otter Creek maw

The girl’s voice and gaze were bright. She returned his greeting, turning his cheeks red with warmth he hadn’t felt before. In only a few moments, she had asked for his name and whether he had come to watch the otters play, or not.

Emmerich wanted to tell her that he had been hunting, but the words did not leave his lips. Before he could offer his name, one of the wolves that accompanied the girl stepped forward and rambled off an introduction on her behalf. The young Paleo wolf had never heard or seen such a thing. She seemed perfectly capable of holding her conversations without assistance. Emmerich’s sun-yellow stare lingered on the speaker before they stepped back and allowed the girl to continue her conversation.

Toula was her name, or so he believed. The white-headed boy would never be able to repeat the string of titles that had been given. Toula was on her first visit outside of her home – a special occasion. The apology was not necessary. He flicked an ear backwards on his head, snout pointed down, to say that she needn’t apologize, at all.

I am Emmerich, of Paleo, he introduced with a small dip of his head.

When curiosity overtook him, he motioned to the accompanying party and tilted his head in question.

Are they your- a thoughtful pause and crease of his features, your parents?