Favorite Dish of the River

A name? He was silent at first, thinking over the pros and cons of giving her his name. Then he figured that it probably didn't matter whether she had his name or not. She knew what he looked like and how he smelled (well, for the most part; the water hadn't completely washed all scents from him, having only been in it briefly).

“Rayios. You?...” he didn't really care either way, for the same reason it didn't matter whether she had knew his name or not. The suspicious look on his face melted away as she explained the peculiar scent, and for the most part now he was relaxed again. The stinging on his left paw was a constant bug on his mind; it made him tempted to lick at it until it went away, but with the presence of another he wasn't going to allow her the chance to see more of his injuries. His weaknesses, however miniscule, “No,” he began, “I dunno. I just, like the sea, I guess.” in his mind he was starting to piece it together, but he didn't allow the thought to go too far, “So do all Ashen wolves smell like you? I've only ever come across a pack once in my life.” and, to be honest, it sounded boring. And restricting. Imagine having to work harder to feed people you barely even cared for. Or people who couldn't even contribute back. And having to risk your life to defend those people.

The idea of having to take care of anyone who couldn't defend themselves sounded absurb and stupid, in his mind. Why anyone would want to do it was beyond him.