Truth be told, Larkspur had not even considered to introduce himself. Jefferson had given up his name well enough (though his surname might have earned more respect from Lark) and never asked him for his own—so he did not offer it. Besides, how often would he need to talk to this scarred Cyclops? He doubted it would be more than this meeting.
The male grumbled about his pack and the cold and his pack, and Larkspur found the tune rather dull. He exhaled into the cold air, his breath leaving a cloud of steam that seemed small compared to the horse. She was, after all, much more tired than he. “I ain’t lookin’ for trouble,” he offered honestly. “So yer pack ain’t got nothin’ to worry about from me.” He paused, listened to the wind, and then spoke again.
“If y’can find thick wool, it’ll help with th’cold.” There was not true sympathy, but he felt it fair to suggest given the wolf’s current jacket did not seem to be doing the trick.
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