The snow seemed to bury everything silencing the greatest of sounds with it's soothing touch. The lands of Cercatori d'Arte was now painted shimmering white by nature's fierce brush strokes just like the members of the pack, Mother Nature, too, was a painter all her own. Like it always did, the snowy calmness had a major grip over the young for he lay against a tree tail wrapped around a wrist and head rolled to the side as he slept. Completely oblivious to the factor of freezing snow. He was dead to the world.
The sound of Orin's how echoed raising into the sky and spreading through the territory into his ears. That seemed to awaken the dead boy. Ears twitched and pressed forward listening to the invitation. Eyes fluttered open as he stirred to life and sat up correctly while he shook the snow from his fur. His head was still heavy and he could not grasp the meaning of the call for several minutes until his mind finally went to work gears turning to process clear thought. A meeting, gathering of some sort? Bao pushed himself up to stand body still stiff from sleep and now the cold chill of the wind and snow.
His family had had meetings in the past, but he was too young back then to sit in. Was he still too young now? A yawn escaped his snout and something rumbled in his throat a sleepy growl, or groan it seemed. He was dead asleep and he wanted to go back to that, but he wanted to go, no he had to go. He was indebted to Shawchert and all the others for letting him join so he would do whatever they wanted of him. Whether it was something as small as pack meeting he would go if they wanted him to.
The call said to bring wood, of course he didn't have any, but he could surely find some if he wanted and he did just that as he went along to Thornbury. Again, if they wanted wood from him they'd get it, whatever made them happy.
The glow of the massive blaze started to become more and more visible to him as he moved along and then ultimately reached the gathering the blaze bigger than it seemed from afar. Bao didn't move for minute watching as people danced and sang and he realized, what could he do? He had yet converse with Shawchert about getting a new flute so providing everyone with the sounds of Italy were out of question and dancing, oh that was a big no.
He finally moved making way over to the fire where he dropped the little, probably wet, wood he managed to find near it and backed away giving those dancing a needed room. He would just observe and maybe learn something fun, though it was highly doubtful. The boy could only manage to pick out Shawchert and Orin in the group of wolves as they danced and sang.
The leader's flute playing was magnificent and the woman who chimed in singing what seemed to be a song crafted just for the family blended beautiful. He was perfectly quiet eyes trained on the fire and those dancing before it as if they had done it so many times before this and probably they would make habit of this sort of gathering. The light, joyful atmosphere seemed to lift his dark mood still the common neutral line stayed firmly in place on his muzzle.
Then somebody wailed out I love my pack! Every type seemed to have been mixed into this group, hadn't it? Big, small, loud, and quiet, but most of all they had some sort of artistic talent. Each special to them representing who and what they were. He glanced over at the one who wailed and gave an amused snort. This place was truly unique.
"speech"