She imagined there would be a great deal to travel, though the wanderer looked to have little bother for this possibility. Before this, she hadn’t had a traveling companion, only the silence of the road and the burden of fate’s will upon her shoulders. Though she could not confess aloud, having one to walk with provided a strange kind of pleasure. One that birthed the tiniest smile upon her muzzle, catching the warm light of the peeking sun through its clouded veil each time she glanced back to look at Pump.
“Second name?” Perhaps she meant a family name? A banner that was long ago forfeit by her sire’s trade of her to another pack. “I would assume most would adopt the name of their pack. Though I suppose come cling to their family names as if it holds significance away from their community.” She never understood why less established wolves cared so deeply about their family names. Unless they maintained the honor of having it, they were doing little more that exhibiting their family’s fall from higher graces.
“Pump of the Horizon Ridge,” the title flowed with ease. “No other name would you need, lest you aspire to take the right hand, or the place of lead to your pack.” The woman glanced back just in time to catch the warm light reflect the deep hue of her companion’s onyx brow. “Do you intend to, one day?” |