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The bird was chirping up a storm and Thorn could do nothing more than smile at it and wonder what it was saying. It was times like this that the white Russian wished he had a companion, someone to talk to when he was worried, bored or just alone. He couldn't be meeting other wolves all the time and a nice baby animal to wile away the time would do the trick. Yet the Russo was a strong believer in fate in these circumstances and knew that if he was meant to meet someone he would. That's how he had met the mother of his two children and no doubt the reason he had met such a good friend in Ink.
"Very handsome beaked friend you have," Thorn commented sitting near the black wolf. He glanced at the leaf as she spoke and nodded his fedora capped head in agreement. It stood to reason that sometimes leaves didn't completely change from one colour to another and sometimes took a break halfway through. "Do you paint too?" Thorn turned his kilt slightly, (this was less weird because he was a wolf wearing a kilt) and took the bone needle from out of his fedora. Tracing a snag and tear near the bottom of the hem he dug out some supplies and started threading the needle. "I have a couple little pouches of dye to be made up if you need it. I planned to do some dying on my bag later today."
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