Sleepy Fox Hollow spaziergang

It was a short story, and a very sad one. Dusty Rose gazed at him with soulful blue eyes, appearing empathetic but having no real metric for the sort of pain Mahler carried. And while he was aware this was the case, there was a vast disparity between this awareness and true understanding.

He did understand, very clearly, that this was not a topic that Mahler enjoyed discussing. Dusty didn't make any reply to the tale, because what could he have said?

"Well," said the coywolf, his heart giving a little squeeze at the older wolf's sentiment, "I'm real glad to be here." It was a rare privilege, he thought, to not only walk beside such a wolf as Mahler, but to be appreciated by him as well.


Dusty Rose loped ahead with new vigor, pleased to be patrolling his new home. His batlike ears swiveled to be sure that they were still alone, and then he broached a topic that'd been on his mind quite a bit, lately.

"So. I met Isa the other day," he said cautiously, not quite sure what else to say about the encounter. "She is very..." There was an awkward pause. "... outgoing," he said, employing as cheerful a tone as he could manage. It was, predictably, very cheerful; Dusty Rose hadn't minded her terribly. He only wondered what Mahler had to say about her.