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#7
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Tamerlane’s life from infancy upwards had involved listening to what more erudite wolves had to say. At this age and stage, and with this experience, he was often thought of as the more knowledgeable wolf, but nevertheless, in situations like these he still paid more attention to the one he was addressing for information. In this case, it was the young female with the intelligent ocean eyes, who had pulled out from her willow-like bow to reply to him before she vocalised her thoughts regarding the small child. Attitudes aside, he agreed with both parties. One, it was unsafe for a puppy of this age to be out on his own, and two, it was not the wolf’s business. Indeed, if the slender female was to in fact pick the child up and drag him back home – possibly saving him from the numerous dangers of the wild – there was still a possibility that she would be received with derision. Tamerlane was not as protective of the small stranger as the female was; if the pup was to be hurt, it was the fault of the parents, sitters or guardians.


He glanced from the stranger to whom his previous words had been directed, down to the sprightly, furry figure that sat glaring at them with such relentlessness in his baby blues for one so young. Are you a Lykoi? he asked, expecting scorn and “what business is it of yours?” in return, but nevertheless expecting some pride if this was indeed one of the children of Inferni.
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