He had his first kill of wolf flesh, as shown by the dark shadow himself. It was a taste he would not forget on his tongue, but it does not tempt him more than any other meat. Weak is food- from the mouth of the shadow. He knew this to be true as reality had shown it to be true. Whatever is weakness is food- and it made sense. It clicked with the instinct in his mind.

But he was not searching or seeking out weakness this day. He did not really seek anything out in particular as his black limbs move seamlessly across the fields. His body had grown significantly in his short existence. He was now feeling the power of his body come together in muscle. He was starting to blossom, like vines ready to take over the world. He was the future as he approached the aging leader who caught his eyes. He hardly noticed at this point that she really was significantly aged to him. She was naturally older, and she had been around for a good portion of his life. He did not see her as weakness or age. He saw her as the leader, the one his mother followed and respected, and the one his father seemed content with.

Ears flicker back slightly in his approach, the sun shining down on his white-hued back. He had felt something...odd about her since he met her. Something familiar. Something that reminded him of...sister. Maybe it was the face, the markings, and yet it did not seem to line up completely in his mind. Maybe it was just as it was, and he was just seeing them as similar because they are both wolves. Yet his mind could not shake the familiar feeling, and he thought best to approach it in some way.

The young boy circled around, swinging his hips in a pivot to where he faced her. His face was dead for a moment- almost very similar to Tobias, and yet his eyes are aflame as usual, and the dead look fades with a few waves of his obsidian tail in greeting. He sought to stop her movement, to gain her attention- for...she does not have a name, not that has been told to him. Mother had no name either. It was not an odd thing, and yet he does tend to wonder why some have it and some do not.

"You," he states, face morphing a bit as he attempts to piece together words. "What to call...has name like mother or sister give? Sister give me name- mother not give me name, Sister say name given by mother....I don't...understand," he says, stumbling upon his words and meanings, but he tries and pushes forward. He knows the dark woman knows the way of words like Sister, and although Singe is around the way of words more than when he was born, he still was not good with them. Lonhro spoke differently as well. Father rarely spoke, and mother? He had never heard her utter anything but grunts, growls, and whines. The dark woman- she was the most logical choice to ask questions to, as he didn't think anyone else he knew would be able to answer him.