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If anyone else would have tried to comfort him, the Russo would have thought them a nuisance. But he had a small feeling of affection for his cousin and nodded in a stubborn acceptance at his words. It seemed apparent that the clan of family he talked of were closely knitted and no one was oblivious to it. With one last scrape of the knife, Spyridon stared in satisfaction at his clean brown arms. He would let the rest dry and detach.
Silas seemed likely attached to his cousin as he offered once again the invitation of staying. Admiration gleamed in the red hued wolf’s eyes and he nodded his head again. The words of comfort had worked though doubt still lingered. But he was positive there was at least one family member he could trust.
“Would be fine, yes. Thank you,”
Spyridon said, replacing the knife. As soon as the flap of the bag was lifted Primrose appeared again and scuttled into the bag. He closed it as soon as her pale tail disappeared.
“You call your leaders, no? Wait I will.”
This time the male did sit. Settling lightly onto a maroon couch, its fabric bending with his weight. With a smile, the wolf just caught see the shine of adoration flashing in his cousin's blue eyes.
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