bury me low

A soft chortle of a noise escapes his canine mouth, satellite ears flickering to the sway of his tail. It is good to be humble, but I will reserve my own opinion, he assures, amusement and respect in equal measure flowing across the bond. Though it has sometimes landed him in hot water, Cera was usually a good judge of character, and was perhaps too trusting of everyone he met. Still, he has a good feeling about Ashe. An even better one about Soot, who tickled his nose with long, spindly legs. Cera goes cross-eyed trying not to sneeze, ending up with a gurgling choked noise in his throat. He doesn't want to send Soot flying, so he carefully and awkwardly lifts his head to sneeze before returning to huff air at the little drunk spider. He certainly had no dignity left to protect in front of the other wolf, clearly. As Ashe speaks, Cera keeps his attention respectfully upon her, though his sage eyes flicker down to watch Soot's grand journey across his legs. There's an entire world of stories behind the tension in her voice, the stiff set of her face, but Cera knows when to push and when to comfort. He'd been a father once, after all. So he asks the only question that, to him, matters: It sounds like a difficult journey. Are you happier, where you are? Hopefully she will excuse his boldness, but he finds it's a question that has become important to him. She is as kindly as Smith had been, and he cannot fathom a life where he doesn't instinctively care about people. At the prospect of helping her, his tail wags vigorously in the dried leaves and dirt behind him. I would be happy to help you find them, he assures, contentment clouding out every other emotion she may be able to sense from him. A quick glance down at Soot and he carefully stands, not wanting to disturb the little spider or knock him off. Only then does he look back to Ashe for instructions, prepared to follow wherever she leads. What is there to know about them? If you want to shine like a sun, first you must burn

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