Aivar's ear flicked, angling back to the child behind him. He stared at Nutuyik as she spoke. Slowly he turned his head and then his body to face the young wolf that was declaring it was rude not to introduce himself, especially when he was so close to their camp. Aivar's tongue slipped from his mouth, curling over his muzzle.

“A prince huh?” he cocked a brow, tone dry as he appraised the boy with mild curiosity, the one may look at a strange new insect. Nutuyik passed by him, her flank brushing against his as she turned to speak to her prince in a language that the boy had used—a language he could not understand. Frustration listed the fur along his spine and his head lowered.

“You know, I'm a prince too,” he said matter-of-factly as he swallowed the anger. “My name is Aivar,” he said as he raised his tail proudly. And he didn't care if this brat thought he was rude.