The boy talked a lot. He did not wish to hold the fish, and had no desire to yet eat them. Perhaps he’d take them when he found out what the painted wolf’s purpose was, but for now he was wary. Orange eyes narrowed slightly, listening as the strange fellow explained himself and continued to talk, asking more questions than Larkspur had time to answer. When the younger wolf finally stopped speaking, Larkspur snorted bullishly.
“Y’talk a lot,” he said flatly. The reigns in his hand jingled as he advanced, coming closer to further observe the scruffy male. “Larkspur D’Angelo. This ain’t that far out, n’I heard y’call.” A pause, in which he eyed the bag around the wolf’s neck. It was familiar to Naniko’s and the rest of their odd tainted family. “Y’another of Naniko’s brats?” Larkspur asked snidely, ivory teeth gleaming against his white muzzle.
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