oath of silence

The boy was big. Not necessarily leggy either; if he wasn't done growing—and Iarlaith suspected he wasn't—he'd be a giant of a wolf. They grow 'em big 'round these parts, he snorted, shook himself when he received little more than a bashful stare from the yearling and a quick whistle from the bird. "Not sure what you're on about, darling," he addressed the gyrfalcon with a cheeky smile, as if he'd understood her (he hadn't), then back to the boy.

Pulling himself to his paws again with a quiet huff, and quietly noting his back end was still sore from that encounter with the Big Bastard, he took a few steps forward. His head tilted, tail sweeping a haphazard wave as his eyes flicked over the boy again. The kid looked unsure. Or caught. He didn't see any other adults around, no chaperone but the winged one. He grinned, eyes narrowing. "You're not supposed to be out here, are you?" He tutted softly.

Of course, Iarlaith didn't actually know that; it was an educated guess. The boy seemed sheepish, though that could just as well be that Iarlaith had startled him, too. "Ah, not that it's any of my business, anyway," he continued, nose twitching.