Firefly Glen Coming?

“Been watching trees grow,” he teased dryly, yellow eyes shining. “They slow. Very boring.”

He snorted gently, tail giving a solid thump against the snow-littered ground. “Truth is, pack keep me busy—hunts, scouts, stand looking tough,” he said with a mock lift of his chin. “You know all about if you come.”

Then came the expectant raise of his eyebrow as he settled those big, yellow eyes on his friend.