Barrow Fields a victim of love rather than hate

joy seized cam's heart as illidan mentioned his resemblance to his own mother, followed by a crushing wave of grief, painful in its intensity. his face crumpled, even as his natural sense of curiosity struggled to take in each and every word. at the question, he shook his head, swiping a small, pink tongue along his jowls.

i look like my mummy, too, he explained, pride evident on his features. but daddy is light brown, 'n so is lana, 'n ziggy is white, but they've got black noses like me, and now he was rambling in earnest now, unable to stem the tide of words. he normally wasn't so chatty; something in the man's easy nature had brought it out of him.

he looked up at the wolf, tail wagging, the sadness from before temporarily forgotten. i'm cam, he added, feeling as if that might be helpful for the stranger to know.