Word Count :: 376 om nom nom
The tawny-furred youth steeled himself, folding his smoke-furred ears back. He was frustrated by his inability to communicate, certainly—he desperately wanted to know if the rest of the world was like his siblings were. Maybe he had even just spent too much time with them lately. Harlowe was given to contemplation, and he had turned these scenarios over and over in his head. Even so, every time he imagined himself meeting with someone else he was always able to speak. He always managed to pull the courage from somewhere in his imagination, but now that it was reality, the tawny-furred canine could not muster that same feeling.
The multi-colored canine spoke again, still clearly bothered by his own lack of speech. He lamented that he could not share with her his own frustration; already he saw a similarity between them, and it was terrible that he could not reach out and share that. The she-wolf began moving, shifting her things around in the bag that she was carrying. Harlowe watched her intently, puppyish curiosity shining through on his features. She produced a strange-looking thing he could not identify. It was dried-out and purplish in color, and a distinctive fragrance wafted toward him. There was little hesitation from the boy as he reached out to take the small sprig, drawing it back to study it for a moment with his olive-colored eyes. Energy? He was confused; this plant appeared to be dead. Its ability to extract energy, much less produce it, had ended with its life, as far as some of the books said.
She had introduced herself. That meant he was supposed to, too. Steeling himself once more, he inhaled a breath, though his eyes were carefully averted toward the ground. If he looked right at her he seemed to lose the ability to speak; it only made it harder when he looked at her. “I'm Harlowe D'Angelo,” he finally said. The words were so soft they might have been missed if Cerridwyn hadn't listened for them, swept away in the gentle ocean's breeze. But they were a landmark; the young man felt a swelling of pride in his chest, though there was no desire in him to keep on babbling. Baby steps, baby steps.
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