The call was unfamiliar, and yet it grabbed his attention and refused to let go. Somewhat unconsciously his paws would begin to move beneath him, carrying him toward the source of the sound. It was strange to see much interest from the boy; he liked being the center of attention, adored being noticed -- and yet he was lazy to a fault, oven preferring to keep to himself rather than seek out others simply because the latter required too much effort. He was not at all driven like his parents, though he certainly held himself like a prince as he walked. His head was held high, tail curled above his back as he approached the source of the call.
Narrowed sea-green gaze told him that one of the wolves was familiar -- but one he did not recognize, though something inside him told him he ought to recognize him. One of Loccian, a valuable member of the pack, or so his parents has told him. Slowly the boy would approach, his gait slow and not at all precise. As he drew near to them, he would dip his head in respect to Loccian; a gesture he'd been taught, not one he preferred to do. "Who's this guy?" He asked as he came within walking distance. Quintus was a blunt boy, and rarely held back what he wanted to say.
