She mimics him, or at least, he believes she does- the girl seeming to bow down suddenly before abruptly seating herself in much the same fashion as he himself does. He does not anticipate- entirely, that it is he whom is behaving oddly, merely believing instead the girl is of the same nature as himself and this only further seems to delight the beautifully handsome young wolf as he grins again and those emerald eyes glow in pleasure. He can smell so many scents upon her, even from this small distance, her own unique odour concealed beneath a myriad of other scents from other lands that intrigue his curious, strange mind and yet for now the young male remains where he is, offering his cryptic words. Yet- unlike so many others she does not stare at him blankly, she does not say she cannot understand, she does not ask him to repeat or scowl at him as if he is a foolish being. No, no, she is a listener, this he knows and this he likes. She speaks, though her own words are few and infrequent and this he likes too, for his mind is given to find favour in the simple, plain sentences that his mind can readily perceive. He is still learning to speak after all and as such he is drawn to those whom do not bombard him with sounds, the boy far more adapt at ‘hearing’ that which is unspoken, in watching the language of the body and indeed in this moment he is content in her presence- because she is content in his.

Her assurance that she has no friends sees that handsome, long haired boy tilt his head once more, ears pricked forward in curiosity, though they continue to twitch and turn in response to each little sound within the forest that surrounds them. She admits her lack of friends and perhaps indeed, so should he, for the friends he speaks of are visible only to his gaze, figments of his imagination- though he hardly knows that. They are real to him, because he believes it so and in that fashion perhaps the boy, the son of destruction and nightmare- is never truly alone.

“Did your….friends….run away from you? Sometimes……they….run away from me.”

Whether he speaks now of the same friends as before, these figments of his imagination or indeed true and real wolves whom so often flee before him cannot be said as he frowns once more and continues to attempt to process this information before those soft, sweet, boyish lyrics emit once more.

“Sometimes I….try to be friends but…..they do not want to be Lonhro’s friend….no…..Lonhro comes from…..shadows and fire and they…….are afraid. Are you…..afraid of Lonhro?”

One eye lifts slightly, curious of her response perhaps as his red and white tail flicks loosely once more. If he finds her own lack of friends pitiful he does not say so- for he cannot say otherwise, he himself lacks friends as well, outside of his pack and his brother, Singe. With his brother he is close, with his mother he is close- his sire does not permit closeness and Lonhro has never missed what he has never had. Her mention of secrets sees his attention fixate fully once more, bright emerald eyes held upon her again.

“Lands that…are far? What lands that are…far? Tell me….tell me about….the lands that are far!”

This idea seems to excite him entirely, tail waving once more before his demenour shifts yet again, head and voice lowering suddenly as if his next words are a great secret in themselves.

"Why....are you here? I will....not tell....if you tell me....I promise. I do....not tell lies. I am Lonhro....I am a Prince."