Meadowlark Prairie that the people would see me too as a poet

The young wolf slid up next to him quickly just as Naberius was dropping the kill once he was certain it had died. His muzzle tips to the side and down in small nod. A silent 'your welcome'. 

Redsand you say? What a fine name to behold! He smiles at this, a name which reflected lands which Naberius knew well. Red lands, golden sands and the oasis and open plains in-between, these were places which Naberius favored. 

I am Naberius Cyrus, of the Land of Sun & Sand. A pleasure, young man. He licked his bloody maw, settling into a sit to catch him breath after the hunt.