Fox's Glade ageless as the sun

Her ears quirked as she listened, warmth creeping up her cheeks slightly. If the words were meant to flatter her, surely they had not worked. These were the words she repeated to herself during the half-beat her gaze averted. Fortunately, Siarut had his own question. Her eyes returned to him, clearly pleased with his curiosity.
It is beautiful, and harsh. It suits you. She repeated it first in her father's tongue, then translated it to common, feeling very odd about repeating herself so many times. 'It is beautiful, and harsh. It suits you.' Your language— I find it fascinating.
The inkstain paused a beat. I've heard many in my travels. I believe there are endless languages; far too many for one wolf to learn. Her tone suggested disappointment, and it did not lie. Few things grieved the yearling more than knowledge she could not obtain.