Blacktail Deer Plateau tim burton's buttons

Valtyr's face was a welcome respite from the uncommon boringness of the den. Casmir bounded (or would have, if his legs had worked like that) toward the unknown man, bristling somewhat as instinct told him this was a stranger. But, like the milk-giver and his dark papa, this one had the collective scent upon him, the fragrance the little one would one day associate with the wolves of the plateau.

"WHAZZAT?" he bellowed boisterously, lifting a minuscule paw to pat Valtyr's nose awkwardly.