Once he had been weary about meeting new wolves, especially when he lacked a bottle of vodka to weight down his hand. But Leroy was quiet pleasant, and from what Heath could see a guy’s guy. It brought a small grin to his face. He needed friends, or he imagined it was natural to have them. Haven was a bud, and now he would hope to add Leroy to that list. The male looked fit and a good comrade to have on his side for a fight. Maybe they two could hunt, though the burly black and white dog-wolf seemed like he could take a buck own himself Heath would still enjoy the track and kill. “Are you one of the originals? The ones that found Ruri? He had wanted to meet those wolves quite sometime ago and yet had never gotten around to it. He had spent too much time getting into trouble.
Thoughts drifted from the hunt, and from Ruri to the mare. He dark face peered at the other hybrid, examining him as he did her. “She does. Feels right to call her something, and she answers to it when she wants.” She was fickle at times, but each time he whistled or called her name she heard him, though not always answering. Only if he sang, a sad low howl would she return to him with haste. But Heath was no singer, and so he suffered with an inconsistent return. “Lumière.” His French accent was prominent as he spoke her name. His Light trotted at the fence, as if begging to get closer to the stranger.