Vasiliy is by Sunny!
He remembered the songs his family sang -- they were bawdy things, full of dirty lyrics and uninhibited women. Vasiliy could enjoy these songs as any other good Russo, but he also yearned for the softer and prettier songs -- songs shunned by uncles and aunts alike. Singing itself was a thing Vasiliy could not do. Like any other art, he found it beyond his capabilities, and therefore used his voice only to speak and howl where necessary -- and this last, he did less than the usual canine.
Her smile and touch provoked greater joy in him, though Vasiliy attributed this to the show of friendliness. The voice was difficult to understand, although not impossible. His father would have spoken better with her, having a greater knowledge of tongues -- but Vasiliy's determination made him eager, and he strained to understand. Grinning and wagging his tail himself, the stone-hued wolf shrugged. I like anyway. Is good song, and you have good voice. He realized, quite suddenly, he had nothing else to say other than to compliment her voice, and spent a harrowing few seconds struggling to find his tongue. He almost commented on the weather, too, when it occurred to him he'd interrupted her. Oh! Where you were going? Sorry, I interrupt.
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