Totoka River mistletoe

To the boy, halfway to manhood, the rose-brown vixen was a call to disaster. He had never met an unfamiliar she-wolf on his own before, and without understanding why, he felt compelled to seem impressive before her. "Yes," he said, looking a little pleased with himself. "My mo—" DO NOT SAY MOTHER "family and I live further down the coast," he nodded in the direction of the Ridge, from whence he had came, lifting his bushy tail into a proud wag. "Are you traveling with your family?" he asked, as a child might, forgetting he was supposed to be asking "grown-up" questions. He smiled at her, rather admiring the sallow daffodils of her eyes, and her shining, water-heavy coat.

"Aren't you cold?" he blurted then.