Harmony intriuged him, with her mismatched stare and her creamy pelt, so different from the russet mask that covered half of his face. She was gentle and sweet, her demeanor so much softer than his own, rather than riddled with the constant annoyance his own seemed to display. Most wolves he wouldn't have followed -- but most wolves also wouldn't have stuck around to talk to him. 'I didn't mean it that way,' she explained with a laugh, and he shrugged a bit, at a loss for words. "Sorry..." Though she was pretty, and he found his gaze straying once again, he didn't know how else to react. He was no prince; he didn't know how to be. He didn't know how to be there for anyone, even a friend, but he figured this was a first step. To spend time with them.
She seemed eager to go, and he would lope beside her with ease, finding the silence awkward but not unbearably so. It was better than awkward small talk, he decided. There was plenty he could tell her, but why would she want to know? His life seemed especially dull to him, and he found himself brooding over this as they walked, to where -- he did not truly know.
