Paint the colours of the wind

“...After.” His mind went somewhere it shouldn't, and his expression went blank as he looked at the little fiery wolf. Watching as she turned - not to him - but to the blank page he had laid out for her to use. Using her paw to spread yellow across the page. He was thankful her attention was elsewhere, as he wrestled control of himself once more. Focus. He told himself.


“Well, she-who-belongs-to-me” he said, almost lazily. “The trader hinted that mixing these colors might produce unexpected results… he winked when he said it, if you're brave enough to try.” He challenged the girl. The trader had also said he would make sure to travel back this way in another month to see if they wanted to restock on their supplies. Of course he would, with the treasures Basilisk had paid him with. This might yet be an expensive hobby for her to develop. He wondered if they couldn't produce some paint of their own…