Emberwood [m] But if you get me out, you get a show

The coywolf gave a tiny, mute shake of his head; he was sorry, too, but it was long in the past.

Automatically, his claws flexed to dig into Reverie's fur, reflexively attempting to keep her in place. His expression was a quizzical, where do you think you're going? in the scant moments before she explained herself. Then he understood, and the whole line of questioning shifted in his mind. He was quiet a moment longer as he absorbed this, but he still had the wherewithal to tug her back into place.

"Naw — I don't care," he assured her, thinking it would be pretty rich of him to fuss about bloodlines right then. "Everything's gotta eat. Sometimes coyotes are on the menu. I don't — I don't hold it against them as a species. Maybe I won't rest too easy until I know what kinda background a dog has, but — "

He huffed out a little laugh.

"I think we're past that, don't you?"

It was clear in his eyes, though — he had questions. Like, "What was she like? Or did you know her?" And, "Blossom..." he began, hesitatant this time not because of her name — for she was plenty old enough to have one — but because he was sure it was none of his business. He let that matter lie, uneasy.