He has never been outside Taviora and the prospect of such a journey is delightful to him. Perhaps he will be the first of his siblings to make such a trip and in some fashion this makes such things only more intriguing to the young black and grey male. White limbs hurry upon the earth to keep up with the rest of the company- he is easily the smallest, the boy still struggling to outgrow his runt status amongst his larger, heavier siblings and yet he was growing well all the same. Angel blood is made stubborn and headstrong and perhaps to an extent his determination to do all that his siblings can has assisted his development even further- for he is everything he should be, if only in miniature. For a moment his red-flecked face looks away from the large male whom leads them and towards the border line being pointed out, mismatched eyes of blue and gold all tainted with silver seeming to consider the information being offered. He is a quiet boy, a thoughtful boy- one given far more to consideration before any action and while perhaps he may appear almost as if he is slower to understand- such a thing could not be further from the truth. The boy is clever of mind and wit, near dangerously so, he simply prefers to consider before he acts, has shown aptitude for analysing a situation if only to approach it from the best angle and indeed in this way of thinking has secured his own place amongst his siblings, content enough to allow brother Vort to lead most of them time, keeping his own watchful gaze over his siblings in his own quiet manner.

He offers no words in response to this lesson on borders, merely absorbs what has been said, curious gaze turned upward at Mikken’s almost over enthusiastic desire to see the mountain wolves. Tzadkiel is hardly unexcited, more so, he is simply quiet by nature in all regards, seeing little need to explore such obvious emotion for now, half given to wonder if perhaps Mikken had never seen a mountain wolf- maybe this was why he is so excited? White limbs and little black paws carry the boy forward once more, the son of Zaphkiel and Astrid loping easily along despite his small stature, determined to keep pace with the others as they seem to climb higher and higher still. The air is cooler here, he notes and yet his fur is thick against it, the touch of cold hardly noticed on an excitable child. The meadow they were lead to was large, vast and seemed to sweep in every direction far further then the tangle of trees and mossy rocks that so marked his forest home.

The small dark boy pauses once more as Mikken does, hardly daring to go further than the older males front leg as he sits almost obediently beside him. After all, Mother never allowed them to rush forward and away from her, they were always made to wait and as such Tzadkiel merely does as he has been taught to do, waiting patiently and properly beside the leading adult for some further instruction as his gaze drifts from one child to the next as they remain gathered before him. Mikken’s introduction is followed by a silence of sorts- one no child of the forest seems content to fill- at least not yet, the boy given to offer a curious glance in each direction before speaking.

“Tzadkiel.”

He simply offers, because it seems expected of him- though he remains in his position, seated tall and proper beside Mikken’s front leg, ashy grey and black pelt aglow in the sun- a stark contrast to the gleaming white of his underside and flecks of red Angel Marks that dance across his features and shoulder- a colourful child to be sure. He attempts something of a grin, uneasy perhaps, in such a new situation and a land so vastly different- though he tries all the same. Someone perhaps, might have the courage to approach him.