I cry a lot, but I am so productive

Though he often didn't act like one, Kuroki was a hunter and a pretty good one too. He was one of the few wolves still knocking about who could claim to have brought down a mammoth-not that he knew it was called that- and had feasted on its flesh. Tasted pretty good, lots of fat. Point being, when he stumbled across a familiar scent, it near knocked his socks off, felt like the last few years slapped him upside the muzzle. Too many familiar faces emerging out of the wood work, first Onyx and now Fable.

Wasn't hard to find her, she'd scurried away in some dark, glum hole in the ground that very much didn't suit the image of her he had in his mind. He always pictured her by a campfire, the glow of the flames warming her coat as something tasty simmered. She looked tired, skinner than he remembered, always tasted her own dishes as any good cook ought to.

He moved to flop down beside her, all too familiar despite the years that had passed between them.

"Been a while."