A Conclave in the Night That Remains Eternal

For a second time, it seemed as if Kove had been the victim of mistaken identity. He couldn't blame the little ones, as they often caught him from afar or behind, unable to see the color of his eyes. Like the last time, he turned around to the sound of the voice, calling for his father, and walked towards it. When he broke out of the shadows, he did as he had before and lowered himself down to be more leveled, making sure his face could be seen by the small lupine. “Sorry, bud, but not this time,” the pale man said, his words slow and holding a hint of uncertainty. The male had yet to figure out just how much the whelps understood, nor had he yet figured out that there was a high possibility they were each learning at a different rate. Eventually—probably soon—he would learn, but for the moment he had to just speak and see if anything said was understood.