Nizhónígo ałhééhosiilzįįd (Pleased to meet you). I, ah, only know a little. But I'm glad to know I'm in good company. With an amused hmph, Nate cocked a brow and made a show of appraising Cecil, I'd say you're an handsome wolf, too, by what I know of the matter. Not much, obviously. Nate laughed lightly.

It faded at the thought of telling Mithwyth he was changed. And, well, maybe she'd understand. He pondered it. Just... couldn't find any good reason to risk the telling. What part of being a man was worth talking about? Nate didn't have any family still alive, and hadn't for years before... this. Except Ko-Ga, and Soquili, his pinto.

And Eleanore.

He told himself there was no use mourning what amounted to hayloft courtship and promises nobody else would have ever let them keep. But she'd made it to his heart of hearts, and her absence left a gaping wound. Even being reborn couldn't mend a thing like that.

There was no going back. And for that reason he wasn't sure he wanted to go forward, some days.

And none of that made for good conversation to anybody.

Ko-Ga seemed to sense Nate on the edge of brooding, and nipped at an ear. Flinching, he rolled his shoulder to dislodge the crow and rubbed the spot that smarted with a snowsoaked paw.

You can tell her you're a man, if you want. For my part I'm... trying to decide if it's better to just leave what's dead, buried.

Ko-Ga tugged at cheek fur. Nate pulled his head away, muttering quietly, Halewisda. (Stop)

Mom had a people, and she told me what she could get away with. Pa preferred I was Irish. So I reckon I'm just another drifter. He laughed again. But a perceptive ear might hear the bracing in it — to brush off pity, or bite at prejudice, if he got anything but a laugh back in return.