I Could Stop Time

Walk | Talk | Think

At last, something was said that he could understand and recognize the context of. The brown wolf spoke her name, Imala, and Requiem committed it to memory, already quite certain that he would have no trouble remembering it. She was the first wolf in this foreign land that he had met, the first wolf of this foreign land that he had spoken with - if their broken back-and-forth phrases could be counted as a conversation. She was, due to circumstance, special and memorable, and would remain that way no matter the outcome that came from their interaction.

Tribe wolf. It was not exactly the way he ever heard packs spoken of as, but he supposed things were different here. Packs were tribes, and this Imala belonged to one somewhere close by. Of course, the revelation only renewed the sense of worry that had been lurking within him, the fear that some protective wolf might suddenly show up and step between them as if he was a threat. Again his teal-green eyes roamed around them, searching, and again came up empty. Pack - tribe - or not, Imala was still alone here. Except for him.

As he should have expected, the question was turned back around on him, and for a moment he floundered as he tried to answer. "Oh, uhh..." Requiem muttered thoughtfully. Sawtooth might have been where all his family was, where he had intended to go once he had gotten his freedom, but he had never truly made it back there to make the move home official. Unsure how he felt about not being able to claim his family's pack as his own, the brown youth answered somewhat distractedly, gaze averted still in thought, "I...I'm not part of a tribe."