Altar of Twilight evergreen

The question regarding stripes was unexpected. Foxfur balked for a moment before he tried to find a way to place descriptive words. A marking, like slash marks but made by a fur coat, usually in a consistent pattern, he offered wearily.

When the female went on to say that the child she sought was not hers, the warrior exhaled a weight from his frame. The fact that the child was still missing was dreadful, but at least he did not feel as though he had to tiptoe around a – rightfully – hysterical mother.

My name is Foxfur. Who are you?