oath of silence

He snorted. And Iarlaith snorted right back, though softer and more amused as the boy seemed to take offense, at once shaking free his bird-friend and planting himself. Iarlaith knew a challenge when he saw one. He didn't rise. He didn't do anything. His quirky little grin remained plastered on his muzzle, amused, though there was a sharp, telling gleam in his eyes. He wasn't interested in a fight. Didn't mean he'd apologize either. He wasn't sorry, and he didn't care if it rubbed the kid's fur the wrong way.

"Eh… you really wanna fight an old man?" His nose twitched, the half-smile on his face unwavering. He raised one paw, waved it, then settled it over the other. "Look, I'm not much of a fighter–" emphasis on the not much bit "–that was always my brother's area of expertise. And, well, he's not around, as you can see." Besides, Iarlaith preferred to talk his way out of things. "Me? Well, I'm a lazy old lump," he grinned toothily. He spoke in an altogether unhurried fashion, tail still swaying languidly behind him, clearing the snow under his rump.

"What do you figure happens if a lone wolf gets into to much trouble out here?" He waited momentarily, as if for an answer. The boy or the bird. Didn't matter. He knew now not to expect one. He chuckled anyway, shoulders rolling in an easy little shrug. Maybe he should tell the boy about the Big Bastard. Now that was a story. Thing was YUGE. Like, six times Iarlaith's size. That's how he was going to tell it, anyway.