trouble in my bloodstream

Despite his eyes not working, he was more than capable of figuring out when someone was getting into his personal space. Which is exactly what the large male did, the faint brush of whiskers and breath sliding over the end of his snout. Most might not have noticed the sensation, preoccupied by the looming face near theirs and obscuring their vision. Without such persuasions, the lanky child screwed his face up at the strange tickling against his nose. As the face withdrew, the man spoke up again. As it turned out, the plants were meant for healing, and he was the best around at helping sick wolves. A curious hum bubbled up in his throat and spilling onto his tongue, auds perked with interest. "So you were helping everyone when the ooze got them?" reedy vocals crooned, and he hauled his front end off the ground so he could sit up and stop craning his neck so awkwardly. He'd learned very quickly that he should at least try to make it seem like he was looking at someone when they spoke.

He only remembered after that first question that he was supposed to respond to an introduction with his name. "I'm Raven!" he crowed, much like the raucous bird after which he was named. The gawky youngster didn't want Álarr to think he was rude, and then tell his dad. Getting in trouble sucked. One of the barn swallow parents took flight from the rafters and whizzed out of the doors, left ajar while the rambunctious kids and livestock were let loose for the day. His keen ears picked up on the fluttering of tiny wings, and one of them swiveled immediately to follow the path it took away from the pair of wolves and out towards the distant orchard he hadn't visited yet.

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