If he ever felt he was in the company of a brooding teenage boy, it was now. As the tawny wolf made the suggestion that he would leave, the amber-eyed Tainn refrained from rolling his eyes heavenward, and instead chose to cast the youth a stoical glance. Useless, his mind muttered darkly to himself, though the only hint of his irritation was with the quick sweep through the air his tail gave.

"That's probably for the best," he decided, his tone even before his shoulders lifted in a shrug. If the boy wanted to lay back down in the rain and daydream his day away, he wouldn't judge him -- perhaps that was how the Caverns was. Nios had been raised by two proud and strict wolves -- in Copper Rock Creek or Sequoia Vale, such an action would have been greatly frowned upon.

As much as Rook longed to escape his company, the swarthy male silently returned the thought, though was hindered when asked a question. His ears tipped forward, but the name held no recognition to him, and he simply offered a brisk shake of his muzzle. "'Fraid not," he rumbled, and given he was certainly not one to stand around and make friends, he stole the opportunity to continue on his way.

His limbs strode forward -- the rain seemed to open upward and the shower sprinkled across the terrain before him, he could feel his pelt begin to stick against his skin, but rather than feel hindered by such, he instead felt refreshed.

As if the rain was washing away the lingering discomfort from his pelt that the boy had left, much like a bad taste in his mouth. And with that, the male was gone -- off to seek out the patterns of the local herds.