Word Count :: 3+ Rawr. It's late and my muse is drained. Lovi's in optime form.

The black-faced wolf stared in wonder around Thornbury. He had seen Luperci towns like this before, but never had he been inside any. Never had he been invited to claim a home in any such place. He limped through the little town, steadying himself every now and then on anything he could find. His young eyes focused on a nearby wooden house. He had only dreamed of being able to exercise such mastery over wood. He had a knack for small sculptures and whittled figures, but to build a home... That would be something.

He limped carefully forward, casting his gaze all around. The appreciation of art that Cercatori d'Arte was known for was clearly apparent in this settlement. Signs of the wolves' creativity lied all around him. Loviere could hardly wait to join the pack in their activities. He eyed Octavian, a few feet ahead of him. The raccoon seemed as mystified as the man. Loviere knew what the little scavenger was thinking.

"Oct, look, don't touch."

He chuckled as the raccoon cursed at him in Low Speech and moved forward, slowly taking in the sights of the town. Loviere could hardly wait to meet his new packmates. It was a funny thing, to think that he was actually part of a pack. For as long as he had known them, his parents had told him of how pointless packlife was. It was better to take care of yourself and just yourself, they had told him. Loviere had never quite enjoyed living only for himself, personally. The life of a loner was a lonely existence, going against every instinct he had. He sought companionship and family, unlike his parents.

Thoroughly absorbed in his thoughts, Loviere did not have time to react when his bad leg caught on a stray vine upon the ground. He grunted as he fell onto his shoulder, unable to turn his body in time to catch himself. Two years with this disablity, and still he had not quite mastered it. He gently pushed himself onto his knees, shamefully looking around for any witnesses.

I've just now realized that Loviere looks a bit like a raccoon himself. Hmm. And the lateness is fine.

If his face was not covered in fur, the dog might have seen Loviere blush with humiliation. Nonetheless, he gratefully took the helping hand and gently got himself onto his feet, swinging the crutch back under his arm. He took a few seconds to look over the dog. The half-tundra wolf could count the number of dogs he had seen in his life with his fingers. The uneasy feeling of obvious inexperience washed over him. Loviere was finally escaping his own little world, trudging into reality. There were other kinds of canines out there, kinds that he had not seen on his path from the south to Nova Scotia. Loviere could have laughed at his own naivety.

The strange accent of Rory perplexed him further. He would have to remember to ask him of his origins when he got to know him better. Loviere had heard that people came from all over the world, but he was still amazed at such a simple difference. "I'm okay, thank you."

Octavian hurried up to Loviere now and as the wolf held out his free arm, the juvenile coon leapt on. He climbed up his friend to rest upon his shoulders, looking at Rory curiously. As Rory spoke again, Loviere took the opportunity to look closer at the dog. With Shawchert being the first, Rory was only the second member of the pack that Loviere had really had the chance to meet. He smiled back and spoke. "I'm Loviere Dinabalo. It's nice to meet you. I just got here few days ago, yes? Just getting used to... life."