Wapun Meadow revolutionaries wait for my head on a silver plate

The male approached slowly, ears flicking out as Galileo came up with an explanation for his distant look.

I'm Dovev, he offered in return, padding in the thick but dry grass that curbed the small tributary. Pinecones littered the ground, their dry points sticking themselves into his paws. With the uncomfortable feeling, Dovev slowed to a halt and turned his attentions from the surrounding lands to his packmate.
Galileo was a silvered brute, with an ebony topcoat and curled hairs about his jaw. In fact, he didn't look much older than Dovev, but held a deep wisdom that seemed impossible for the tundra wolf to ever achieve. To each his own, he guessed, for Dovev was not one for sitting around and spinning moral tales. It was good the pack had someone like that, though, and Dovev didn't lose any amount of appreciation over them.

He stood for a moment, wondering if it was worth asking Galileo what was on his mind. It wasn't any of his business, anyways.
It's hard not to get lost up in there, is it? Referring to his mind, Dovev held a wry tone as he glanced at his packmate.