And here's to you, Professor Whistlefoot

It was hard to say how often he had traveled to the mangrove; time had become strange to him and he found that even his memories of puphood had become distant. He could however remember the last time he had come to the mangroves and felt the heat of a blush creep up his neck.

He skulked through the mangroves with his head low, his chin nearly touching the brackish water, entirely indifferent to the muck that clung to his long legs. He had come to the mangroves again scouting for the lands that his pack would call home. “What pack?” He reminded himself and felt a twinge of fury in his heart. If Acere and Elias’s latest litter remained they had not sought him out, not even when he called for them on the remains of Mount Vulcan. “Traitors” He thought coldly.

He broke from his reverie at the scent of a stranger his ear twitching as he heard a faint growl on the wind. He paced calmly in the male’s direction if only because meeting someone would keep his mind off of his traitorous family. At first he hardly noticed him, his coat blending almost seamlessly into the ash gray mangrove roots and the shadows casted by the snarling depths beneath the trees. If he hadn’t seen the flicker of bright orange eyes he might have missed him entirely. He raised his head formally then gave a short, greeting bark, his tail slack and nonthreatening behind him.

Speech, Thought, You