Jade Fern Grove he's got looks that books take pages to tell

@Xan !!!

If he was to see his band through the winter, they would need better shelter than what the willow could afford. He had been sleeping beneath its boughs, lulled each night by the gentle babble of the stream, but the time had come to dig dens before the ground froze and winter closed upon them. So he rose one morning, ducking out from beneath the willow's fronds, and set off into their little piece of the wood. The willow was at the heart of their claim, and he hoped to find a good spot nearby. Since their arrival he had come upon signs that the forest had once been inhabited by a pack. Once he dug up a pile of bones, perhaps the remnants of an old food cache. Perhaps they could find dens dug by the old pack and thus save them from doing too much heavy lifting.

The search for a den hadn't yet reached the top of Xan's list of priorities. He'd been content with sleeping out in the open, that way he knew that he had plenty of ways to move should he need to get away quickly. The approach of winter hadn't weighed too heavily on his mind, having decided that he'd find a place to take shelter within once it became absolutely necessary. When that might be, he hadn't stopped to consider. The day had, unbeknownst to him, come sooner that theoretically anticipated, however, as the distinct sound of footfalls reached his ears. Having been resting amongst the ferns, he'd pulled himself up and crept forward with the desire to investigate, only to spot a familiar face.

Revealing himself fully, he'd stood there until the male had grown closer. "Sriracha," he'd greeted once the distance had lessened enough for him to be heard. "What are you doing?" He knew that the other wished to settle there, and so he'd assumed that another look around was being taken. Whether that was the case or not, he hoped to find out, and then somehow work into their conversation a topic he'd felt he should mention.

Sriracha walked with his head down, plunged beneath the layer of ferns as though searching underwater. It would be easy to miss something, buried beneath all of this greenery. When winter came and the plants died out, Sriracha had a feeling they'd make many a discovery about this territory. 

It was very easy to miss something and very easy to be surprised by the sudden movement of small prey in the underbrush. One such surprise came when Xan suddenly spoke up, suddenly appearing from beneath the ferns. Sriracha would admit to jolting a bit in surprise. Xan, holy shit, he swore. Sneaking out of nowhere, damn. He laughed nervously, then strode forward to greet Xan with a good old nose poke. I'm looking to see if there are any old dens laying around. Want to join me, amigo? Two heads are better than one, after all, and he always appreciate the company.

Alexander had not intended to cause a fright, and so he'd not reacted to the slight jolt that had run through the other's body. It was not unusual for beings to lurk around within the woods whence he'd come, the shadows often being either manipulated or traveled through on regular occasions. The fact that he'd surprised the other hadn't really effected him, and so he'd just stood there as if nothing had happened. It was something to be easily pushed passed, after all; that was how it was within the woods, or at least the way in which he'd operated.

Upon being poked, he'd retreated a few steps. None of the wolves within their little group had any ties to the woods aside from himself, but, even still, he didn't want to be touched. It wasn't an entirely new thing for the boy, but it'd certainly worsened. No matter, he'd still shrugged once there was enough of space between them, responding to the question. "Sure," had been added shortly after. "What's that language you speak?" It was something that he'd been curious of since having first heard the unfamiliar tones. Should the other have begun walking, Xan would have followed, careful to remain far enough away that he wouldn't bump into him.

Sriracha recovered from the surprise quickly, only slightly embarrassed. His sheepish grin flattened as Xan shyed away, and immediately he took note to be careful touching him. Sriracha knew better than to ask why he so disliked contact. A more self-conscious wolf might have feared that he was the only one to recieve such a treatment, but the behavior meshed neatly with Sriracha's image of the yearling.

He began to walk, and Xan with him (though at a notably safe distance). It is Español in my tongue, or Spanish in yours, he explained. The language of the South. It was my first language. Sriracha paused, let the sound of the rustling ferns breach the silence, and then asked a question of his own. Will you tell me about yourself? I want to know who you are, beyond that your name is Xan.

When the other moved, he'd followed, as was the same whenever he paused. The answer given provided insight as to why he'd never heard it before, as the boy's family was from the north—his paternal family, anyways, he knew nothing about his maternal heritage. The fact that it was his first language cleared some things up, but he'd not commented again on it. Rather, he'd decided on saying, "Ajai." There was a pause afterwards, a break between words so that the difference in languages could be noticed. "I know the language of my family from up north, but it wasn't my first to be learned." It was a simple fact to be shared, but it was still something at least. "Could you teach me some words from your language someday?" he'd asked, pausing in step so as not to bump into the other. It wasn't so much that he planned to use Spanish regularly, but more so because he wanted to be able to understand when things of importance were said.

Xan shrugged when asked about himself, having little more to say than, "What do you want to know?" It was unlikely that he'd ever share everything, but there were, perhaps, a few questions that he might not mind answering. He knew that it was important that he share some things here and there, but doing so was a difficult and frustrating task.

Together they walked. Sriracha kept his nose low, seeking even the stalest of wolf-scent. He looked not only for existing shelters, but places where a den could be made. As he walked, he listened to Xan talk about himself (for once!) It was a surprise to hear him open up. Sounds pretty, he said, then realized that maybe that wouldn't appeal. Uh... pretty cool. Yeah.

Nothing could have made Sriracha happier than Xan's interest in his language. Si! he grinned, tail wagging like tomorrow wasn't a thing. That was your first word. It means yes.

There was no missing the myriad of scents Xan's coat carried, many of them wolf-scents. To Sriracha, this meant that Xan was from a pack, though why he would have left to follow Sriracha was a mystery. So therein was his first question. Why are you not with your pack? he asked pointedly. I mean, I'm assuming you've got one. You seem like you do. And I mean, I don't care. But I thought I ought to ask.

Though his mind could often be found wandering elsewhere as of late, he'd done his best to focus on searching through the territory. Winter was fast approaching, and so proper shelters would be necessary if any of them wished to survive it. Thankfully, he'd inherited an exceptionally thick coat from his northern lineage, but that didn't prevent him from feeling the nip in the air whenever it came around. He'd paused to inspect something when he'd heard the other male's response, head having turned shortly after to look towards him. It could be described as pretty, though he definitely preferred the correction over the initial statement. There was a nod offered, but he'd not ensured that it'd been seen before he'd gone back to moving forward, attentive towards the land that surrounded them.

Sriracha had agreed to teach him a few things, and even threw a simple word into the mix whilst doing so. Si. A single syllable, easy to pronounce. He'd not spoken it aloud just yet, however, the word having been stored away within his mind instead. It would be remembered, the simplicity of it making it hard to forget. "Thanks," the boy had come to say, appreciating that his request hadn't been turned down. It'd been some time since he'd learned a language, but he hoped to make progress with it in the weeks to come nevertheless.

There came then the question he'd been dreading the arrival of. Why he wasn't back at home; why he'd chosen to follow a group of loners rather than take shelter within the safety of a pack? It was simple, really, but the entire truth wasn't something that he'd tell of. "I had to leave," he'd said, pausing for a second, and then continued with the intent to elaborate what he'd meant. "Something happened, so I don't think I should be there anymore." For every day that he lived within Blackfeather, he'd been at risk of running into Cicero. For every day he'd remained there, he'd been at risk of seeing the beast again. "I have to go back and tell them that I'm leaving," Xan had added, albeit absentmindedly. He didn't want for them to believe that he'd just abandoned everyone—his pack, his life, his family. He wanted them to know that he still cared, but he just couldn't stay there any longer.

Denada, Sriracha said, grinning. That means you're welcome. Thank you is gracias. Think you can remember that? The last part came out teasingly, and were Xan so apparently uncomfortable with touch, Sriracha would have nudged him playfully.

All Sriracha needed to hear was the first part. Needing to leave was a good enough reason for him. Parting was bittersweet, and dangerous this time of year. Only wolves that were driven out by need or by force would leave, and either way, Sriracha would take Xan. He was willing to give the boy a second chance either way, but if Xan thought it safe to go back, he was probably not forced out. That is fine. You should go, it is the right thing to do, Sriracha said gently. And we will still be here when you return. If you return. Perhaps Xan would arrive to find that things had changed, that he could stay. It would be sad to lose him.

Quite suddenly, Sriracha stumbled upon the enterance to a hole in the ground. Like, his paw caught the edge of the hole and he absolutely ate it, nose to the ground. Spitting out dirt, he swore a blue streak, then turned to investigate what he had found. He had ducked between to boulders, and beneath one was a hole large enough to admit one wolf. Hey, I found something, he said, indicating to the hole.

Alexander paid attention as he was spoken to, not wanting to miss out on learning any of the words. The next two to be given were ones that he doubted he'd ever use, but he'd appreciated being taught them anyways. "Denada and gracias," he'd repeated back, not quite getting the accent right. He'd English-ified the words, more or less, the accent used to properly speak them being something that he'd definitely need to work on. "I can remember," he'd added then, taking the question seriously despite the tone used to speak it. He wasn't really the joking type, the humour of others being yet another thing that he'd need to work on learning.

Rather than being told to stay, his need to return just once more had been encouraged. It was the right thing to do, that he knew, but there was more to it than just that. He couldn't allow for himself to be labeled as a traitor, lest he wish to never see his family again. On neutral grounds, perhaps doing so would be safe for him either way, but he didn't want to put them in any danger by doing so. No, he had to make sure that everything was taken care of properly, that way he might be able to salvage that which he'd liked about the woods. With that settled, he'd directed his attention to the latter of the sentences, ears having perked up slightly. "You guys won't leave?" the boy had asked, the notion being something that he had a hard time understanding. For Xan, it was normal for others to leave, and so he was taken off guard by the idea that the opposite might happen this time around; even though it'd been decided that they'd remain within the grove, he hadn't been able to prevent himself from thinking previously that they might all sneak off in the night and leave him there alone.

In a matter of seconds, he'd been forced to stop, legs then pushing him back a few paces as the other male lurched forward. One moment Sriracha had been upright and walking, and the second he'd been eating dirt—the Inuit now knew what linked him to Ocra. It was with caution that he'd proceeded forward when spoken to, not wanting to trip and fall. He'd been successful in doing so, too, allowing him to inspect the opening without the taste of dirt in his mouth. "Do you think there's more like it around here?" Xan questioned, noticing it's size. It would be enough for one, but not multiple, which meant that they'd need to find more.

Xan was... a little awkward. But he had potential, and lots of it. That was something Sriracha could work with. There was more to him than his sullen attitude. Sriracha had seen glimpses of it, here and there, and couldn't wait to see the boy come into his own.

Sriracha snickered. Your accent is atrocious, Xan, he said. But you'll get better. I believe in you, amigo. He didn't realize that he'd slipped into his native tongue for the last word, and so he didn't translate. As for Xan leaving, Sriracha didn't mind at all. He trusted the red-eyed wonder, and he knew that there was something personal going on. He liked Xan, he wouldn't begrudge him his freedom to do as he wished. We'll be right here. I like it too much to pack up so soon.

Then came the hole.

Spitting and sputtering, Sriracha attempted to expell the dirt from his mouth. Scowling he looked upon the hole, then grinned. Success! They had-quite literally- stumbled upon a den, but Sriracha's investigation turned up the same results as Xan's. I hope there are, he said. Just one measly den wouldn't be enough, and would definitely mean they'd be digging their own. With everything else they had to do, it would be helpful to at least get dens taken care of. I wanted us to be able to sleep together. I-I meant all of us. A communal den, so to say. He stuttered after his initital, suggestive statement, ears twitching down in embarrassment. Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable I would never make you stay with us. He didn't even know if that's what Ocra or Kessa would want.

The words spoken had not been done so properly, the fact that the accent used was off having been pointed out. A remark had not been tossed back, though, previously, it was likely that one would have. Nodding instead, he’d taken note of the comment and told himself that he’d need to practice later on. Presently, he kept his focus on the male and not his language. Another word was spoken, one that he did not understand, but an explanation never followed. It was in silence that he’d wondered what the word meant, choosing to ask later on rather than right then. They had another task to complete, after all, and so he didn’t want to take up any more time being taught when, he knew, that could be done at another time. As long as he remembered—and it was unlikely that he’d forget—then he could seek Sriracha out and request a private lesson.

Being told that he could leave as he pleased and not worry about no one being there when he returned was an interesting thing. Of course, with Blackfeather, he’d been able to wander around whenever without risk of the pack vanishing before his return, but it seemed different this time. To actually hear someone say that they wouldn’t pack up and leave was somewhat new and made him feel weird. It was another thing he didn’t comment on, however, not yet able to understand fully how it made him feel; the feeling had been so brief and unusual that he’d simply left it alone, disinterested in tampering with something that he didn’t know anything about. The belief that he’d be left alone anyways lingered still, too, leaving him without any other options than to just wait and see. To find out through experience if the group would leave him, rather than just blindly accepting the word of a near stranger.

Alexander did little more than observe after the others fall, his question having been the last thing he’d said for a moment or two. His wondering had been responded to, and he’d nodded in turn, sharing the hope. Never before had he been made to dig an actual den, having found the already established ones to work best for him; it had saved time, as well as kept him clean. Yet, as the male’s idea was shared—the double-meaning had flown right over his head, and the seemingly embarrassed demeanor that followed confused him—he was left considering the possibility that he might have to help to create such a space. “I’ve never slept with a group before, unless my family counts,” was his comment to make, trying to imagine such a den. It seemed like it’d be cramped, but, then again, what did he know? “I want to try it,” the boy decided. “If I don’t like sleeping with everyone, then I could just stay there.” With that, he’d nodded towards the den before them. It might be a tight fit, by his standards, but it’d be better than getting covered in snow once winter arrived.

Sriracha still glowed with the knowledge that Xan was interested in his native tongue. Very slowly, he was coming to understand the boy. As he did so, he began to appreciate what he saw. Potential above all, the potential to do great things and become a force of good in the world. He saw strength, the quiet kind of self-posession that made a great warrior and a great scholar. The boy was clever, in Sriracha's eyes, and he was responsible, as he had proven during Sriracha's absences. And there was honor, honesty, qualities that Sriracha would never fault the boy for. He was doing what he felt needed to be done, and Sriracha trusted him.

Xan admitted that he was a stranger to any living arrangement but familial. Sriracha snickered good naturedly. You and me both, Xan, he said. But my family was big enough for any pack. I'm pretty well accustomed to crowded dens. Sriracha nodded at Xan's interest. Good. There's no pressure for you to stay with the rest of us, though. But, we do also want you with us. And by we I mean me, because I like you. You're a good guy, Xan. A pause. Is that your real name? Xan? It's interesting. He waited for an answer, then started trotting along again, nose low as he moved.

It was made known that he wasn’t alone with his lack of familiarity, which he’d felt relieved to hear. It made him wonder, though, of the reason for why the idea had formed. If Sriracha himself wasn’t used to bunking with any groups other than his family, then how and why had he thought that doing so would be a good idea? Perhaps it was because his family was so large, or maybe it was something else entirely. Curious, but not nosy, he’d abandoned the thought of asking however many questions that he’d come up with. The answers didn’t really matter anyways, if he were to be honest with himself. It didn’t matter why the masked wolf wanted them to all sleep together, just that he did. It was as simple as that, he’d told himself, which had assisted with his efforts to drop the subject and forget about his unspoken inquiries.

Xan was taken aback when his friend-in-the-making continued to speak. He couldn’t recall a time during which he’d been called good, for always had he be the exact opposite. Trouble followed him wherever he went, plus he’d practically been born a creator of it. If something was going well, he had a way of messing it all up, sometimes without having even realized what he’d done wrong. “I’ll try to like it,” was his response, words genuine. The Inuit had even found himself wanting to like it, simply because that would mean he’d be closer to Sriracha and Ocra; the former had just shared that he liked the yearling, but the latter’s opinion was still a mystery. It was absentmindedly that he’d then found himself asking, “What about Ocracoke?” There was a pause, and then he’d shaken his head before clarifying what he’d meant. “Does she like me?” They’d met under awful circumstances, he knew, but still couldn’t help but wonder. Normally, he couldn’t care less about what others thought of him, but now it was different. He needed to know that he could trust at least those two, as well as wanted to be sure that neither hated him for what he’d previously done.

When the authenticity of his name was brought into question, Xan had, surprisingly, not been offended. “Yes and no,” answered the albino, then wasted no time with explaining what he’d meant. “My full name is Alexander Apaata, but I’m usually just called Xan.” There were only a few wolves that could get away with calling him Alexander, and they were, for the most part, his family by blood. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the idea of being called by anything other than his nickname by the other, and so he'd kept quiet about it for the time being. And then when he'd started to move again, the boy followed, hoping to remember where the den was located in case he might end up needing it someday.

Sriracha beamed at Xan's response. Bueno! he exclaimed, pleased to find that Xan was willing to push his comfort zone. That's all I ever want from you, Xan. If you try your very best, then I could never see you as a failure, he said. Then, as an afterthought, Bueno means good, by the way. Take notes, there'll be a test. Sriracha chuckled, an indication that he was joking, but still followed it up with. I kid, I kid... or do I? Here he smiled wryly. 

What about Ocracoke? he asked before Xan could get his explanation in. Oh! Sriracha wasn't actually sure how Ocra felt about Xan. They had had a rocky start to their relationship, but that didn't mean things were improving. However, it had been a regrettably long time since Sriracha had had a good conversation with Ocra. Still, he was going to tell a good-natured lie to give Xan some confidence. I'm pretty sure she does.

Xan went into the details of his actual name, which Sriracha found mildly interesting. Alexander, he said pensively, looking over Xan and trying to decide how well it fit. Sriracha decided he liked Xan better, though he was of the habit of calling wolves by their full, god-given names. I might keep calling you Xan. My daughter- adopted- is named Alexandria. I hope you get to meet her some day. Though Sriracha had left to start his own life away from the nest, he still hoped that some of his siblings might follow. He particularly hoped Alexandria would come after him, for she was dear to him.

A word was said that he knew not the meaning of, nor had he ever heard before. Yet there came no pause after it, not a moment in which he could toss out a question regarding it. No, the male had continued to speak whilst Xan, well, listened. He was taken by surprise, as was depicted across his face when he’d looked towards Sriracha. Eyes widened just enough to make a noticeable difference as his ears perked, mouth agape. One, two, then three seconds slipped by before he’d pulled his mouth shut and looked away, confused not only by the words themselves, but by the feeling that they had caused to stir within his chest: embarrassment. For effort to be sought more so than actual, promised results wasn’t a new concept to him, but to hear that simply trying would prevent him from becoming a failure was still shocking and strange. Into his mind had he drilled the belief that it was only the end result that determined if a being was a success or a failure, but that belief had just been shattered and he couldn’t figure out how to properly handle this new information he’d been given. So, Alexander did what Alexander does best and ignored it all; the feeling in his chest, the uncertainty of his mind, everything.

It was easy to push passed what had just happened when the male spoke again. This time he shared the meaning of bueno, and then proceeded to make a joke. The boy hadn’t laughed, however, he’d only nodded and repeated the word once or twice within his head, committing it to memory whilst also using it to wipe his thoughts clean of any and all confusion. Thankfully, there came more words that assisted in the cleansing of his brain, the answer to his inquiry having been the final swipe needed to give him a spotless conscious. Briefly had his tail swayed, only a handful of swishes having been made before he’d ceased the motion entirely. “That’s good,” he’d noted, speaking partially to himself. “I don’t want her to hate me.” Or anyone, for that matter. Already had he experienced enough of hatred being directed his way in the short life that he’d lived thus far, and so not an ounce more was desired.

Upon hearing the syllables of his given name, his attention was caught. The way the moniker sounded when spoken by Sriracha made it almost tolerable, but never would he prefer it over his nickname. Of course, it made him glad to hear that he’d continue to be called Xan, but the relief was quick to change into interest. “You have a daughter?” was his first question, disbelief evident in his tone. Immediately after and the question was followed up by more as he first asked, “What’s she like?” and then, “Why’d you leave her?” Was he like Scarlett? Willing to just abandon his child? He hoped not.

Sriracha carried on, unaware of the warmth his words had imparted, only that they had been earnest and true. If they had any other effect, then good. In Sriracha's eyes, Xan was a young man in need of a guiding hand and a good dose of self-esteem. Sriracha took the boy's initial prickly disposition as a wall, jealously guarding some terrible hurt and no small amount of insecurity. This assumption was compounded by his interest in how others saw him, particularly Ocra and Sriracha himself.

As a proud father, Sriracha primed himself to talk at length about his daughter. To hear him tell it, Alexandria was the fiercest and most beautiful daughter of the hills. She is difficult to describe, Sriracha said as they walked on. I used to have to chase all of the boys, and a few girls, away from her. But she is grown, and when I asked if she would come along, she refused. Now that I've carved out a place here, she and some of my siblings may come. He shrugged.

Curiosity and unsupported distrust had kept him listening, the latter having slowly ebbed away with the more he heard. An in-depth description was not given, but he’d assumed her to look decent enough, given what he had been told. Little of his attention was offered to the task of attempting to picture her, the rest of Sriracha’s response having easily been documented as being more important. It revealed that he was not like the albino’s mother, and had not abandoned his kid. Rather, he’d decided to leave after she’d grown, and she had declined the offer to join him. Xan knew that he couldn’t have been the type to just leave his child behind, but the past had still made him consider the idea, only for it to then be disproved.

“I’d like to meet her someday,” he shared. “Your siblings, too.” And though he said that now, if the day ever came that he’d be given the opportunity to do so, it was beyond likely that he wouldn’t face them. Instead of taking the chance to meet each of them, he’d probably end up hiding away for a long while, avoiding them like the plague until he couldn’t any longer.

Sriracha beamed at Xan's kind words. Ah! I only hope they'll come. Not all of them will, we have a strong love for our home, where we buried our mother. But some of them might, he said. For a moment his eyes took on a far-away quality as he thought about his family, nostalgia tinging the brightness of his joy. Before he bent back to the task at hand.

It was not long after that he found another hole in the ground, the entrance wide and low. It was dark inside, too dark for his unadjusted eyes to see. Looks promising, he said, looking to Xan for a moment before delving inside. He blinked in the darkness, the only source of light pouring in from behind him, casting a long shadow into the place. Blindly, he began to nose around, following the edges of the hole. Seems pretty big! he called over his shoulder. Come see!

Never would he be able to meet the entirety of Sriracha’s family, but he hoped to at least someday meet those that might be willing to leave their old home. He didn’t know why he want to meet them, but assumed it to be because he wanted to learn more about the other male. Not what the masked wolf could tell him—though that sort of information was good, too—but what others knew and could share about him after having spent a lot of time with him. Those were the sort of details that Xan found himself to be most interested in, at least for the time being.

When another opening was spotted, he’d slowed to a gradual stop outside of it, then looked to his friend. He’d been about to say something, but his words were swallowed down and forgotten as he watched Sriracha disappear into the entrance. The Inuk waited until he was called in to investigate before having made his way inside. The darkness wasn’t something that he’d never experienced before, but he’d still gone on to say, “It’s dark.” Thereafter, he began trailing along the edges in the direction opposite of that which had already been taken, unknowingly setting himself up to bump noses with the Spaniard should they each try to complete their chosen routes.

there's a little pp but we already talked about it ooc so i'm assuming we're good, kuro

Den hunting was, on occasion, a dangerous task. The best case scenario was the one they had encountered: the den was empty. Occupational hazards included cave-ins and barging in on the current tenant, often a very angry badger or skunk. Yet luck was on their side. The new wolf activity in the forest would most likely have scared off any fauna that might have made its home there, but smaller predators were cantankerous things, and often stubborn.

He heard more than saw Xan follow him in, but only dimly paid attention to his progress through the soon-to-be den. Excellent observation, Sriracha teased. It was only a moment after that he yawned, still walking. He ran into Xan, and providence would have it that they were perfectly arranged so that Xan's muzzle got stuffed into Sriracha's mouth. His eyes went wide as he shuffled back, looking as guilty as two kids that had been making out and then got their braces stuck together.

hells yee, we’re always good. d(´∀`)b

One moment he’d been walking, then the next he was trapped—but only for like a second, and not really. As soon as he’d felt his muzzle slide into a place that it definitely did not belong, he’d backpedaled, unable to form words. If you opened a dictionary and looked up bewilderment, there would be no written definition, only a picture of Xan’s face. The same could be found under flabbergasted, speechless, and so on. Perhaps it wasn’t even the act itself that had shocked him so terribly, but the who on the other end. He liked Sriracha, and was starting to trust him more, but he was pretty sure that he didn't want to go diving down his throat for anything.

Swallowing, he’d shifted to look in the direction that the light was streaming in from, but had yet to move towards it. Instead, he’d glanced back in the direction that he thought the Spaniard was in and said, “I think it might be too dark.” He totally wasn’t trying to brush off what had just happened or anything. Nope, not at all.

Xan's muzzle slotted neatly into place, uncomfortable though it may have been. Once they were separated, Sriracha immediately dissolved into laughter. His tail thumped against the uneven floor as he cackled, nearly doubled over in mirth. Oh man, he finally said. I ate your face. This he said with a wink, though in the scant light that might have been hard to make out.

The comment about the lighting situation drew a sly grin from Sriracha, whose shoulders quaked with silent laughter still. It'll just make sleeping easier, he said. C'mon, let's spread the good news. And with that he wriggled out of the den. Together they would continue to explore, or otherwise set off on their separate ways.