Alone Together

Tythe blinked at the other pup, staring in quiet awe at the two-toned gaze that fell upon him. Only when the other boy commented about his speech did his eyes fall away and back to his paws again. He didn't know why he stammered a bit. None of his brothers did. It was another thing about him that set him apart, and it didn't help that the other boy had pointed it out. Tythe swallowed before answering. "I'm sorry. Mom says I'll grow out of it," he said, trying not to stammer. A fluffy thing fell onto the ground out of the corner of his eye -- the boy's tail? How was it so long? Or was Tythe's just short?

He glanced up. "Wow. You have a long tail. Is that why you're so mean?" He meant it in the most genuine way. Tythe thought the other's tail was unique, but in a good way, not in the same way that he was unique. Tythe's way of unique was bad.