He chuckled at her vague suspicions, a roguish twinkle in his ice-blue eyes. "I've been taught many a thing by pretty young lasses, you know," he drawled, grinning widely to display his sharp white canines. Would she get jealous if he embroidered the tale a bit? It was worth a shot, to see if he could get a real reaction! "That little ditty came from the far west, at the foothills of the snowy mountains. I met her near one of the icewater streams, pretty as you please, a loner named Whisper..." The name was real; the story was blatantly false. Whisper had been a brief acquaintance; she'd given him directions to traverse the river rapids, and then they had never crossed paths again. He had forgotten who taught him the tune in question. The seed of truth was enough to embellish a lie with, though, and so he continued. "Her name may have been soft, but her voice sure wasn't! She tried to teach me all the verses, but like I said, only the first one stuck with me. Would it be odd, then, for me to try and teach you a song like that? I'll try to recall a different one..."
Slay tilted his head, adopting a comically pensive look, furrowing his brow and gazing intensely up into the tree branches above them. He honestly couldn't remember any other songs, at least not when he was put on the spot like this. Mew had tried to teach him one from a human book - how did that one go again...? Wait, it had been a love ballad; that could get awkward... "Oh, I wouldn't want you serenading anyone, dovely. But I'm not just anyone - why not give it a whirl? I'm sure you could come up with something on your own..." The arctic wolf glanced back at his slight companion, playfully stalling for time.
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