She seems crestfallen, a special concept considering how her white mohawk was so pronounced, when he mentions his sorry tale of woe, the reason he was keeping away from Iromar now. He is ready to turn away when she suddenly jolts forward and his slender frame startles, lending to him swinging about as if preparing for an attack and then settling down when he sees the utter glee on the female’s face.
He is wide eyed when she speaks, “But wait! That guy is DEAD!”
“Wait,” he sounds incredulous, but she interrupts.
“Yeah no one liked what he did, so a bunch of wolves like, killed him. Now the Alphess is Pine. They got revenge for Aithne, her daughter Aster giving blessing to Pine to rule Iromar, I think this Aster rules Asteraia now, fitting with her name and all, but yeah, dude, you should come see it now, it is much better, I promise!”
The dumbfounded look on his face is maybe not as noble as he normally seems, wisened and older. Instead he has a boyish relief and a small bit of delight left in his aging bones - halfway through their usefulness to him. Glass suddenly half full.
He leaps to her right, playbowing with an easy grin of good natured fun spreading across his face. “I am Blackfoot. I used to handle herbs for the pack. Race me there - if you win, I will stay there with this new lady as well...”
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