The red wolf’s big ears drooped a little when the dog admitted to having not been told much about the Tribe, but maybe it was a good thing anyway—at least no one had told him they were evil and ate children and shape-shifted into bears, or some such nonsense (although he was pretty sure he’d had a dream about that once). He nodded in agreement when the man mentioned the other groups being territorial—even if it was kind of news to him. At least, he hadn’t given it much thought before; he’d pressed onwards until he reached AniWaya, never having the misfortune to wander close to an enemy tribe.
“Unless whoever’s marked the borders is a complete and utter moron,” Unatsi said, rolling his eyes, “it’s pretty hard to miss them. I mean, big old wolfy smell hits you in the face, right, and then you think, ‘I bet there’s a pack here,’ and if you waltz over anyway, it’s your sorry corpse. Unless it’s war—now, war is a different story. A bit of … intentional … trespassing there, intent to maim, kind of ignores the whole borders thing. I would know—been there myself. Well, not the trespassing bit, I was more on the defensive—well, more sort of … running away, uh, tactical retreat and all that.” He coughed.
He was quiet as Harvey gave his thoughts about language, and seemed to brighten at his reassurance that he didn’t sound odd—even if he did kind of sound odd. He wagged his tail in answer and added warmly, “Don’t beat yourself up too much about learning another one right away. Only reason I speak two languages is because I kind of learned them at the same time, growing up—I mean, English is pretty standard around here. If you need to learn another, like if you were suddenly surrounded by Cherokee-speaking wolves, well, you’d learn pretty quickly, but until then I guess you can pursue it as a—as a sort of hobby.”
And then it was the merle canine’s time to speak, and for Una to listen, which he did so with an eager smile and bright, interested eyes. He was fine holding his tongue when there was an interesting story being told, although he was as fond of interrupting conversations as he was silences. There were no outbursts as Harvey painted the picture of London, an apparently overcast place but a pleasant one. The Tribesman nodded eagerly then, with an abashed sort of smile, asked, “What do you mean by ‘architecture,’ exactly?” Una was ignorant of the great human cities, having missed them on his journey; the only buildings he knew were shacks deep in the woods and the huts of his village.
Word Count → 454
Miss Pablo, a few days' wait is not a wait. <333 And I'm sorry to hear you weren't feeling well. D: Maybe a moronic Una make you feel better?
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