Where the wild dogs play

He wasn't surprised that the young male didn't remember him. He hardly remembered the boy himself, except that the resemblance between he and his mother was uncanny. It was unmistakable. Indeed, only if they'd met under different circumstances, it might have been a little different. Xephyris could only nod in acknowledgement, having little else to say but realizing that the situation was grim. Then the young brute would stand up, his height impressive for his age. Clearly he would only get taller.

Rivaxorus would ask him why he'd come around, and it stumped him for a moment. He couldn't say why he was drawn back. It was more a feeling than a thought. He hadn't planned it, but it had just happened. "I'm not fully certain," he said in a gruff tone, uncomfortable trying to share what he was thinking or feeling, but he had sought out the boy for a reason, not to remain completely closed off to interaction, "I wanted to see how the pack is doing. I have no family in these lands... I may live within the darker spectrum of things, and I prefer a harsher lifestyle, but..." He went quiet, not knowing what to say next. He didn't want to reveal too much, not yet. Maybe he could change the direction of the conversation. "What will you do now?" he asked, "Where do you belong now, if Sonticus is no more?"