Lost Creek Hollow Golden Slumbers

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The boy slumbered, still and peaceful, regardless of the fact that he was being watched carefully by another wolf. His feet occasionally kneaded, and his whiskers twitched; endearing remnants of childhood. It wasn't until a voice chimed gently into his ears. Even then, Skáld was slow to stir. He moved and stretched, pushing the snow out before him with his small forepaws, and arching his neck. His eyes remained shut, while he relaxed, and yawned. 

A gentle nudge. 

Blearily, he opened his eyes, and blinked a few times. The light was almost too bright, and made him squint. He could make out one dark figure...And then another. Neither were his mother, and aside from her, there were no wolves with such dark fur in Kvarsheim. He was still too sleepy to make out their expressions, aside from the glowing of curiosity and concern in their eyes. 

They spoke in the tongue he knew very little. He recognized the sound of it, and the word you, and realized he was being asked a question, but other than that, he gleaned very little. He sat up a bit. 

"Are you..." He began speaking, though he realized he might not be understood. "You....New?" He asked, hoping they might realize he did not know their tongue very well, and settle for simpler conversation.