(--)
Vasiliy is by me!
While she greeted Vasiliy simply, neither did she make an indication she wished him to leave. The silver wolf smiled a small grin and hunkered down closer to the ground, peering curiously toward the wood she held in her hand. Her small hands seemed deft; Vasiliy could not remember having such dexterity at an age as this youth. He had been clumsy, long-limbed, and utterly perplexed by the world. I'm no better now, he thought to himself, still smiling. He still felt very much a boy himself, and perhaps he was -- not even two years old yet, some old men in Sobirat'sya would have laughed at the notion of Vasiliy calling himself an adult.
I'm Vasiliy, he said, not sticking out his hand to shake -- she was busy, after all. I just join Cercatori. You are carving, he observed, nodding toward the small piece of wood. Maybe I see, when you have a minute? he asked, thickly accented voice almost shy. He remembered being around his younger cousins and how he had enjoyed teaching them things, as the older child. Children did not like to be bossed around, though -- Vasi much preferred treating them as small adults. And anyway, she could shift -- she wasn't technically a child anymore, though she was quite clearly young.
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