Zadkiel wasn’t really one for relaxation. He was far more interested in being on the move, cutting up field mice, or playing with his siblings. However, the springs he’d heard about seemed awfully inviting, especially during such frigid temperatures. Even though the sun had come out to warm things up a bit, the temperature was still considerably low. Low enough, at least, to cause a chill.
And as he reached the springs that were located close to Acheron Peak, he realized that he was not alone. There was another fellow seated upon a large boulder, in his Luperci form, with feet dangling over the side and dipping into the springs. However, Zadkiel was blind to the fact that he was not a wolf, nor to the fact that he could not want company. His gold-green eyes saw one thing and one thing only. The blade.
Deciding that it would probably be safest to show that he had one of his own, the boy picked his own hunting knife (a rather intimidating one if he did say so himself) out of the pouch his father had given to him before he’d left on the boat for North America. Approaching the other cautiously, the cream-colored boy spoke up. "Where’d you get that blade?" he asked sharply, careful to project his voice over the bubbling springs. That was all, no greeting, no introduction, just a question.
He’d never been one for small talk.