~Empty chairs at empty tables, where my friends shall sing no more~{J}

He passed his gaze across her, taking in what he could of the cinnamon youth bowed in submission before him. When the girl stole a glance his way, Malachi caught a glimpse of her own youthful face in return. Her eyes reflected the clarity of childhood, and despite the gentle maturation that had begun to take hold, she still held subtle characteristics of a wolf not yet come of age. Paired with her lanky frame, Malachi determined she couldn't have been over a year.

A perturbing concern gnawed at Malachi while Linnéa spoke. She was only a youth, and should have been with her family still. The temptation to inquire of them rose strong in the boy, but though he knew he had the right to ask and the right to know before he settled her fate among them, his tongue resisted to voice the queries of his heart. Who knew what he would unearth if he asked of her parents? Had she lost her family, or simply chosen to leave? Had she run from them, and would they pursue her now? His thoughts jumped to Maera, before settling more firmly on her siblings, who shared this commonality with Linnéa. They would have been her age by now, somewhere in the world and out of sight of the parents who had given them life. "Why are you out here on your own?" He finally asked, deflecting her request for entry for the time. But whatever her answer, he would not turn her away. It was not in him to do so.