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That leaf he'd been inspecting earlier quickly became Moth's best friend in the whole world right now. Shawchert was massive compared to him, although he seemed to be a good soul from first impressions. His tone helped Moth's nerves slightly, but it was hardly noticeable. However the entire time he remained withdrawn, shifting his paws now and then.
His golden gaze shifted from his little green friend to a stone on the other side of Shawchert when he spoke. It took him a moment, what could he offer the pack? His size and slight build was little use he figured. He could hunt, but again he wasn't much use there. Moth's gaze touched momentarily on the flute about Shawchert's neck.
“I can paint?” he muttered. “A-and draw. Well, nothin' special. I m-mean. I can mix pigments and such as well? H-honey works well for a medium...”
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