The shadow never understood why wolves were so afraid of silence—quiet-phobes—and were so eager to fill the air with their frantic words. While he shied from conversation and avoided it like the plague, Greer was not completely against it either. There were some he did not exchanging words with, even if it was only a few, for he had grown accustom to their presence and mannerisms. Strangers, on the other paw, he remained wary of. It was not that he did not like those he did not know, he just did not deem them worthy of his time. Not unless they had valuable information or were seeking entrance in any of the packs he had belonged to. Only then did he want to lend his ears to their voice.

Emotion and empathy was not his strong suit either. Not unless the wolf had strawberry blond fur and eyes that rivalled the sunrise in hue. He was quick to pick up on physical cues—the flattening of ears and the tension between furrowed brows—but he did not feel sorry for those he encountered. Not often, anyway. Take Kuwindwa: it was unfortunate that she was out in the rain but he did not pity her. He was helping her because they were neighbours and there was a good chance he could run into her again (he also did not want to taint any relationship the Aurora wolves had with the Vale). That would not sit well with his scarlet mate.

Greer did not mind the rain. It was oddly comforting, even though the water leaked into his eyes and made it difficult to navigate through the skeleton forest.

His ears twitched as she thanked him and, again, the young male nodded in silence. A single brow arched as he glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye, his lips tight for a moment before he offered his voice once more, hoping to evaporate the tension. “What do?” Was she looking for something or, perhaps, tracking something? His mercury gaze focused forward once more as he waited for a response.