The boy snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t need luck,” he purred, his eyes glistening. He stood still for a moment, looking over his shoulder at the man. He didn’t know how he felt about Askan. His feelings shifted with the conversation, one minute tense, the next enticed. Vaken preferred the sarcastic wit and banter over the dry yes or no questions. As soon as the man tried to assert any dominance over the dialogue, the boy lost interest. This though- he liked this. Keeping his head pointed over his back, he offered a pup-like grin. “I have skill.” It was a cheesy thing to say, but the boy didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. The words came out more serious than he intended, full of inflated self worth, when he meant them half-humorously. His shit eating grin stayed plaster to his face.

Quickly, he turned back around, facing the direction of his travels rather than the other wolf. He figured that was a good place to end it. It was fairly dramatic, his cheesy one-liner mixed with the increase in rain, but theatrics never hurt no one. He couldn’t control the storm. Askan’s farewell had been friendlier than his hello, or maybe the yearling was just warming up to him. He wasn’t sure, but he figured it was time to take his leave rather than push his luck. Who knew what would happen if he stuck around.

He darted off, a bullet through the misty rain. He was small, mostly-leg and it showed when he jogged. He didn’t feel the need to exert himself, so his pace was moderate and steady. Still, it didn’t take him long to vanish in the grey morning sky. He wasn’t a strong wolf, but he was fast.