Roll Away Your Stone

“Awlright.” He mumbled and rose to his feet. She asked him his name and he felt a chill run through him, his name was just as foreign as his accent and in his experience youngsters were ruthless when it came to taunting elders. “Ruthgar Allantide.” He said, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder and started down the Steppe, unwilling to wait for her to respond, keeping his head at shoulder height and all but skulking away. The Steppe was vastly different from the cliffs he had made his home in and it was almost strange that they could be so close together. He brushed against one of the large, oddly smooth stones where the pack scent had faded slightly and took the opportunity to see if the ‘weean’ was still following him. She was welcome to talk to him of course but his scarred appearance was hardly welcoming, and his aloof nature meant he wouldn’t speak unless spoken to.

This is him talking