Rubbish collection

Malik's head tipped thoughtfully at the idea that it was because they were higher up here in the mountains. "You're probably right about that!" he agreed. It certainly made sense to him at the very least. He wasn't quite the navigator that his mom was, but something like that seemed pretty logical. He might not be as knowledgeable about terrains and weather patterns as his mom, but he still had a very deep appreciation and love of nature. It was hard not to after growing up with his father's tribal way of thinking about the world around him. Seeing the moon always made him miss his parents, but it also made him feel closer to them at the same time.

He was pulled from his thoughts and musing as Kite questioned him about his desire to train to be a mighty fighter, making his hazel gaze turn back down toward her with a chuckle, a smirk pulling at his lips. "I don't know if I'd go that far, but I do want to be a better fighter at least." He did like being proficient and skilled at whatever he was doing, but he felt like striving to be a 'mighty fighter' had the wrong context. "I'm not striving to go out and concur or anything like that. I just want to be able to defend myself and the wolves I care about–and maybe stand a better chance of chasing off any bears that might try to take my kills during a hunt," he explained. Shrugging a bit, he added, "I'm sure I didn't have to come all the way up here to learn that much, but I do love any excuse to explore the continent and meet wolves from all walks of life. That alone makes the trip up here worth it."

"Malik of the Sea"