The other’s remark about his accent had Unatsi smiling bemusedly, the baffled expression reaching his eyes before they blinked rapidly and he nodded. “Well, ah, to tell you the truth, I don’t know anything about Brits or Scottish or that kind of thing,” he confessed. “Not that I’ve ever, uh, gotten out much. But mine—” His smile widened slightly as he puffed his chest out. “Tsalagi tsiwoni,” he said, giving a demonstration of his native tongue before explaining. “It’s Cherokee. That’s what our tribe speaks—well, the old more than the new, you see, we came from over that way”—he jerked his head in the general direction of the States, his gesture exaggerated to convey all the distance he could—“and a bunch of wolves settled here, for some inconceivable reason—well, I forget the reason—and then they formed AniWaya, which is a smaller branch, and where I live now.” He concluded this with another cheery nod, glad to explain a little of his culture to the stranger.
He was glad that his new friend—they’d talked long enough to be friends, right?—wasn’t offended by his little slip-up. He was tired of giving people reasons to dislike him, and he was glad Harvey didn’t yet. He described his social situation involving the few people he liked to talk to and then explained how he was living—which made some sense to Una, despite the obvious Tribeswolf-loner boundaries. He was kind of living with what was there, too, riding out his time in the Tribe until he learned his lessons from Udanvti and truly found his place. Until then, the only purpose he had was to learn to farm and then do so to make sure the Tribe and its livestock were good and fed. It was a great deal of responsibility, but he hoped he could manage.
As the merle dog concluded, Unatsi grinned from ear to ear. “Ale degadanilvga ditlohisdi nihi,” he replied, and explained, “Which means the same.”
That left more awkward silence to deal with, and Una was not a creature who enjoyed awkward silences—or any kind of silence at all, whether or not it was pervaded with awkwardness. He kind of really good at ruining silences, completely destroying them, and he showcased this trait with a hint of desperation as his big ears perked up and he simply looked like a neglected puppy hopeful of making a friend.
“So—do you want to do anything? I mean, we can talk more, I do enjoy the conversation and all, or we can roam off somewhere, not like, a magnificent journey, kind of tired of those… But we could hunt! If I were good at it. I’m not good at it, so—never mind.” He twitched slightly, frowned, and looked off into empty space for more inspiration.
Word Count → 474
It's okay, and it's not late. 
Meanwhile I realized in my last post I forgot Una was in lupus... >_> Anyway, rambly woof for you!
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