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Endymion's eyebrows quirked at the squirrel's action, curiousity more than sparked now. The strange sound that came out of it's mouth resembled speech, and he could even make some of it out, though the actual meaning was lost to the wolf. When he lived in Awenasa he learned a modicum of the language, Low Speech as some called it, but his knowledge of it was quite limited. He knew some key phrases and nouns, but for the rest he was clueless.
Returning the other's smile with a little more enthusiasm, the two-year-old kept walking until he was side by side with the white Storm wolf. "Good... morning," he replied uncertainly, eyes wandering between Pilot's face and the tiny face of the squirrel's. He was polite enough not to ask what was going on, so he simply resolved to keep the conversation as normal as possible. I'm Endymion Russo," he offered, waving his russet tail a few times in an amiable fashion.
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