Larksong Grotto and walkin's what they'll do

Her laughter echoed throughout the clearing. It almost seemed contagious, as if the grotto was laughing along. He blinked away a giggle. 'A terrible first name?' He wondered the same. "I’m not so sure about a wolf, but when I was younger me and a friend of mine found a strayed lynx kit." He started. "If I remember it correctly, we named it something silly. Bartholomeow, I’m pretty sure." He cringed as he finished off the sentence. What on earth had they been thinking? 

"Luckily for the feline, its mother found it before the name stuck." He shook his head. "It sucked for us, though." Storytelling seemed to suit him more than he had thought it would. Perhaps it was because not many had cared to listen before.

A weird sort of comfort formed from her amusement. Her own entertainment was somehow entertaining him. 'What an infectious smile.' He said to himself, stifling back laughter. A weird and lucky coincidence, running into her.