This was what the male needed. The pup that he had met, as Nala had, was half dead and not whiling to play even if Minos had asked. She had never answered any of his questions (as silent as they might have been). In his mind he had been as clear as day, and he was still certain that she was dead now. Her scent, the gaze of her eyes all told him that she was very close to loosing all life, and thus being a dead wolf. Minos had his alpha, which was caring and vicious as Minos was loyal and submissive and now the male needed nothing more then another that spoke as he did, could understand that Mino was no one to fear and thus no one to dominate.
Yellow eyes danced with excitement, his tail waving behind him and his stance tense with eagerness. He growled playfully, a rumble that was low and soft not hard and rattling in his throat, in response to the warning that the coyote gave. He spoke, rising to bat at Minos’ face. The wolf shrunk low, jaws snapping at the underbelly of the sandy hued canine. His voice came high pitched, the growl turning to mock snarl. Then the wolf turned on his heels to initiate the chase. He bounded, hopping in his step around the tree that they fought over. He had yet to have so much fun since joining the wolves he belonged to now.