Luneshale Pass oro

he doesn’t expect conversation from the boy. half the wolves in this side of the world have left him with a poor impression of their intelligence. 

his brow rises as the boy speaks and in that moment soto is made aware of how homesick he’d become. 

si. he answers as the bones tumble into the grey sand. he reaches and sniffs the boy’s fur again. no sign of company - no risk of rifling in some other gang’s business. it could all be a ruse, but hope cannot be artifice; the boy’s sorrel gaze is aflame in it. 

and so, he states again: quién eres?