Turtleback Lake I Am the Color of Boom

Cottongrass!

Otter was delighted to meet another wolf with a similar naming convention to his own. The quick short wags of his tail switched into broad strokes. That he had no proper name and was instead named for a frolicking mustelid was a source of question for some. Not that he minded explaining the reason behind how he and those of his bloodline were named.

"Cottongrass!" He parroted with a grin. "Yup. I can see that. You being all covered in white fluff." There was much about Otter that was similar to an actual river otter. He had a dark brown coat and a love of water. He had a playful and sometimes mischievous disposition. He was even a skilled fisher — though he had far more fun catching fish than he did eating them. But he was not named for resemblance to his namesake. His home range included a snaking stream that housed a number of otters that could be seen splashing around the shores. He was named for their presence alone; that the name fit him so well was a mere coincidence.

"So is all your family named for plants or things in nature?" Otter's ears were lifted forward. This was not just small talk. There was genuine interest glittering in the green of his eyes. The white wolf had his full attention.

Making friends was nice.

Even if the wolf before him had the innate super power to ask questions that were both the best and the worst all at once. Because one second it was about bees that might have been chasing them and then next it was about the theme of his family's names. But he supposed it wasn't all that bad. It was entertaining! Otter was keeping him on his toes and he was sure he would never forget the wolf and their first encounter for the rest of his life.

He liked memorable wolves. Even if said memorable wolf kept him on the verge of existential crisis at every turn.

Behind him his tail wagged and he perked up. Because was his family named after plants or things in nature? It was a good question. One that Cottongrass had never thought about until that moment. He felt like he knew the answer. Or was at least supposed to because his grandfather probably didn't spend all those hours rambling about relatives for nothing.

"Mmm." He hummed, yellow eyes wandering from kind features to the surrounding wildlife all while he merrily swayed on his heels. "Well, my ataatatsiaq said—" And with that he started to ramble. About his parents that he was all too painfully familiar with to distant relatives he knew only by name and story.

He was content to talk. To answer any questions Otter might have about his family even if he didn't know much. It wasn't something he had thought about in ages and maybe it wasn't all bad in hindsight. His tail wagged and his eyes were bright while he continued to speak into the remaining hours they shared.

Fade thread.