There was an odd feeling that had crept up behind him. It made his hair stand on end and body begin to ready itself for a fight. His ears shot up, swiveling backward slightly to listen for what might be trying to sneak its way to where he was. He heard light breathing, but nothing about it seemed threatening. Had the intruder wished him harm, he certainly would have been locked in battle by now; and, upon hearing the broken speech of a bird, he was certain he was not under attack. So, he finished the last letter of the alphabet before turning in his chair to greet the stranger. He found it strange that the small wolf before him had yet to speak, but stranger still that they were dressed. What was it with the wolves of ‘Souls and being clothed? For the life of him, he would never understand.
“I am simply brushing up on my reading and writing, friend,” he explained. “It has been too long since I’ve done so, and I feared it might have been lost to me. Luckily, my memory did not fail me.”
He smiled kindly as he gestured to the scroll on the table. He was still a little rusty, but practice makes perfect. He was proud of his work, though. He hadn’t come across many wolves that had taken the time to read and write like he had. It was a pity, really. There was so much knowledge to be gained from it! It was unfortunate, and he had high hopes that the wolf before him knew anything about the art.
“Do you know how to read and write?” he asked hopefully.
Honestly, he doubted it. He’d asked the question to many wolves, but the answer was usually the same. They had no time for, or they didn’t feel like it was necessary to live a fulfilling life, or even that they just didn’t care for it at all. The very idea of it was appalling to him, but everyone was allowed their own opinion so he let them go without a lecture. He waited anxiously for the wolf’s answer, hoping that if they did not know how, they would, at the very least, be willing to let him teach it to them.
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