- Why do they think I never change, they're the ones that stay the same.
Triell took note of his thin smile, but it seemed genuine despite how plain it appeared. There was something about Sol that struck a million questions to press on his tongue. He appeared to wear a mask, and Triell wanted to know why. What could make him want to hide from the world? What would cause that fear. He put his curiosity aside. He could not blurt questions with the excuse of not knowing better. He would be considered not just an adolescent when spring arrived.
A question to his eyes the Tainn often forgot how not many had hunted beaver, where he had grown up with them all his life. "Maybe, I can show you a beaver some time. I live that way," he motioned behind him where the grove was, "in Swift River." He brought his head back around, seeing how he took in the rest of little information. He assumed he'd likely go to the fields where most loners hunted. The mention of a pack the creamy face was no longer smooth. Had he struck a note there? Something about his past was wrong, and had him miserable by the likes of things. He kept his expression calm wondering if he might have a little more insight about this young fellow. He had chosen his words wisely, and Triell shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself." It was no skin off his nose, and he could understand if he didn't want to be tied down. Accilia mentioned a hunt, and Triell shifted his muzzle in her direction. He wasn't sure how well they'd do, but glanced back to Sol. "You up for it or not?" He asked, not wanting to unless it would be the three of them. That was if they could actually find something.