He was not surprised when his movements attracted the attention of another. He would never admit it, but he almost jumped in surprise when the female spoke. He had been so lost in thought that he had not been paying heed to his surroundings. A foolish mistake, one that a wolf his age should be old enough not to make.

He tried his best not to show that he was startled, instead stopping and turning his colorless head toward the female. The smirk on her face was evident in her words, and his mouth twitched to match hers.

“Don’t worry, I manage to eat without having to coat myself in mud before a hunt,” he said, amusement evident in his tenor voice. To be fair, it was true what she said about his coat. The flecks of silver caught the light well, and if the fur on his underbody caught the light, he could practically glow when his coat was clean, which it typically was.

Moss colored eyes looked over the form of the female, evaluating her as much as examining her. Red markings on a dark body - he knew those colors. His head lifted slightly, allowing his nose to catch her scent. Indeed, she was an Iromar wolf. He would have to be cautious then. He knew not all wolves of Iromar were violent, but if there was one pack to be wary of, it was the swampland pack.

At least, that was what he had been told growing up. He had never actually met anyone from Iromar himself. He would keep the warnings in the back of his mind, although the female’s words had been friendly enough for him to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m Xavier,” he said, turning to face her. “And you are?”

He was curious about the other wolf. She carried herself proudly, yet she was alone in the freelands. More than that, he was curious about her lands. He did not know much of Iromar besides that it was a swamp and that the individuals living there tended to be of a kind that did not tolerate weakness.

four | 30in, 140lbs | no heart | no soul | no shelter