There was forward aggression from the boy, and Anatole was startled despite his seat on the ground. The boy fell back and seemed utterly abashed by his behavior. Pleased by this display, as he would be if any child learned their place, the green eyes of the wolf trailed over his peculiarly dressed companion and the obvious marks drawn against pale fur. A silent, wolfish laugh pulled his mouth open, showing teeth and tongue but without the hostility that had previously laced his body.
“Oh relax, kid,” Anatole laughed, and lowered his chest to the ground. One paw folded over the other, dark tail flicked across his haunch, and the wolf let out a rumble of laughter. “Just use your nose next time; acting like you run the place isn’t going to work out if someone gets angry. You don’t look like you could take on a raccoon, let alone a wolf.” Another toothy laugh. The teasing was sharp, but not one that he considered unintentionally cruel. As he had done with the others in his life, Anatole saw little reason to still his savage tongue.
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