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Word Count: 371
It had taken Sicarus a very long time to come to this far side of the world. He had roamed over Europe, darting from city to city and avoiding the hell out of Itality. There was no point in heading back there—whatever home he'd once known in the monastery was dead, and his brothers would find him a complete stranger, even the very canines whom he'd grown up with. There was no sadness in this for Sicarus, for he had hardly felt an emotional connection to those canines. They were less his brothers and more just heavy, snoring voices in the night, really. Sometimes he could not even tell them apart, especially when just their muzzles stuck out from beneath their hoods, obscuring even the brilliant reflections in their eyes from the candlelights.
He had seen a lot, but there was something still very inexperienced and young in Sicarus. For his training, he knew nothing of being a real canine, living in a pack, anticipating and reacting to others' emotions. There was only the golden wolf's rolling arrogance and the complete certainty that at all times he was right, right, right—didn't matter now. He didn't know where to go, and that was apparent to the other canine. In a moment there was a rough tough against Sicarus's fur, one he very nearly recoiled at. He was not used to being touched; he generally did the touching, and it was never pleasant for those on the receiving end, and it usually ended in blood.
The strange creature who appeared before him was nothing like the child he'd turned his back on; there was some strange underlying strength to the other canine now, some different light to his eyes that had seemed a puppyish shade just moments before. Now there were reflections of Sicarus's leader, and as the tip of the other wolf's tail whipped against that same spot now Sicarus did flinch, surprise evident on his face. The words were even spoken differently, and a quivering uncertainty entered the Gazon's face at the question. "I've never needed it before," he said defensively, still clinging to the notion that he was the dominant canine by mere virtue of who he was.
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