The loner made no comment on the packs that Wayne had mentioned but he did introduce himself as Merlin Arcaniss. The Labrador mix frowned thoughtfully at the concept of naming oneself from a book. He’d known others along the way that gave themselves names that fit them better than their old ones, or out of necessity to change them, but it was somewhat strange.
“Why wasn’t your father allowed to name you?” the cowboy asked, curious. “If you don’t mind me askin’,” he added quickly, not wanting to breach awkward territory once more. While he had no skeletons in his closet, he was acutely aware that others’ pasts around him might have been worse off. “Merlin… I do think the name fits ya.”
He did grin when the timber wolf spoke of the journey to the sea bank. “Been on longer treks,” he joked. “You can say I’m a ramblin’ man.” His parents had been nomadic, and after staying with Dixie’s family, he’d taken to the road with his best friend once again. “Wish I brought a horse, though,” he added, mostly to himself. “Nice day to ride too.”
He waited for Merlin to lead the way and padded beside him, listening to leaves crepitate underfoot and the river bubble over the rocks. His muscles contracted under his coarse grey-yellow fur, used to and relishing the long travel. He did not speak as they walked, though he kept one half-floppy ear turned toward Merlin in case the loner wanted to chat as they moved.
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