It was too dark to see. Laika was breathing heavily, sliding into that cramped little den, built from dirt that had been carefully dug out. Then, the den's tunnel opened up into a larger room. It was still small, though: it could fit maybe three large dogs at maximum.

Laika's shaky voice was barely a whisper, "How did you know this was here?"

The wolf responded in a deep, quiet tone, frustrated with her, "I made it."

"You lived here?"

"Not really, I had a couple of dens I dug out for sleeping or for kills. Now, will you please shut up?"

She lifted her nose, "Don't tell me to shut up."

The incoming of thudding paws overhead, the snap of a twig underfoot, and the crunching of dried leaves on the forest floor, and the wolf was alert, eyes staring widely and focused at the tunnel entrance to the den. The whites of his eyes were nearly the only thing visible in the shadow of the den. A very shallow stream of moonlight glinted in from the entrance, which was a long inclined tunnel away, and not exactly visible. It was a good, unsuspecting hiding area. The wolf's ears swivelled and perked in focused listening as the sounds of dogs grew nearer overhead. Being underground, he could not smell them. He could only hear them. All he could smell was the dank soil of Anertha, like rain, like grass, and like rot. A hopeful thought for him was that, perhaps, being under the wet, decaying dirt in a small den would conceal his and Laika's scent, as well.

"How could you stay down here at all?" Laika asked quietly with distaste, staring down at her feet which were covered with dirt. "It's gross. It's dirty."

"It's safe. Now please, be quiet." His voice was lined with a nervous, shallow growl, his head lowered and body close to the ground. He was worried, and it was all over his face in the form of wide eyes, furrowed brows, and nervously licking lips. Creases lined his face and muzzle.

"Really, again," Laika started, but did not get a chance to finish. As the crashing sounds of the dogs overhead grew near upon them, the large wolf snarled with order and leapt upon Laika, pinning her to the mud floor with his large paws on her shoulders. She could merely see the strong whites of his eyes and the glint of reflection on his black, wet nose. Though, she could feel the warmth of his breath caress her face, and she inhaled deeply and held it without realising it, suddenly a little afraid, suddenly a little nervous. They were so close, so still. The air seemed hot and stagnant. They were frozen in pounding, silent fear. Both of their heartbeats seemed to thud as loud as an earthquake.

He did not look at her. The wolf still looked towards the entrance. Heavy footsteps overhead, crunching of browned winter leaves, and strong, muffled voices.

"Where did they go? Their scent ends here," one said.

"Impossible," another said, "They're here somewhere. Find them. Keep searching."

"Yes, sir."

And then the large footsteps pounded away. After a few moments, they grew quieter, and quieter, and then faded completely. Finally, the grey wolf let out a shaken exhale, and pulled himself away from Laika, who also suddenly could breath easier. He glanced up at her eyes for the first time since they'd been stuck hiding in that dark den together. Eyes met. Beady, gleaming eyes, sharing the familiar release of relief.

"I thought we were going to die," the wolf said with exasperation, a little breathless, his voice still hinted with quiver.

"You seemed so collected and normal," Laika said. "You were strong."

"Was I? I just needed you to keep your stupid mouth shut. You talk way too much," he chuckled a bit.

But Laika just frowned, "No way! You ask way more questions than I do."

"Well," the wolf said, relaxing a little and shaking out his coat, "Maybe it's just because you're on my turf, now. I was just on your turf, so I had plenty of questions to ask. But here? I have no questions about this wild forest. I'm sure you do, don't you? How many times have you been in the forest?"

"You just asked multiple questions," Laika snickered. Then, she answered with more seriousness, "Honestly, I have only been in the forest a few times on hunts."

"You're trembling."

"Oh, am I? It was probably just the near-death experience we just had."

And the wolf sighed a little, a little more light-hearted than before, his sigh of hope and relief. Then, he explained, "I'm sure it was. The forest is unusual to you. But you can calm down, now. We're safe in here for the moment."

"I know." Laika's tense body finally relaxed, and she laid down on the ground with a heave. Then, with a bit of a wrinkled nose, "I still don't like laying in the dirt. How will I keep my coat clean?"

With a chuckle, the wolf said, "I can help you. You don't have much of a coat, so it shouldn't be too hard."

"I do take offence to that, you know," she said back, a small smile lining her muzzle, "In fact, I have a very full coat for a saluki."

"You're practically hairless!"

"You only think that because you're so used to your own coat being so fat!"

"Fat?" Laughing, the wolf cocked his head. "You're just too skinny! And it's just fluff, actually!"

Laika laughed, then, too. Then, the laughter faded, and her eyes darkened gently, staring at the dirt floor. She opened her mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again.

The wolf, "What is it, Laika? Are you still worried about those dogs?"

She heaved a sigh, "No, no. I just realised that I never asked for your name." With frustration, she grumbled, "How rude I was, and yet you saved my life. I just never in a thousand years expected my own tribe to turn on me. I never expected The Baron to... to..."

Soothingly, the wolf spoke, "It's okay." He wasn't used to comforting others, much less domestic canines who he seemed to despise in one way or another. With empathy he looked at her, admiring her glassy eyes and wishing she was well. He looked upon her with respect. All the same, though, as he still deeply despised her in some part of his being for what she was and for what she could not change. He despised her secretly for being a dog, and he despised her kind for driving his species from Anertha. He despised her for his people's slaughter.

But right now, the wolf did not think of any of that. For the first time in his life, he did not think of nor speak of the past. He wasn't suddenly ached or plagued with the memories of his pack being torn apart or his years spent beneath the ground at the paws of the dogs. He wasn't distraught at his capture, nor focused on hating the dogs that had recently caught him and harmed him. Even the painful memories of his parents and his once-been family did not cross his mind. In that quiet, gentle moment, the wolf could only stare at Laika's gleaming eyes, wet at the rims, as she stared weakly at the dirt floor.

And he scoffed quietly at himself for the way he had thought about Laika whenever they had first met just a week ago.

"You know," he said, softly as a coo, "I thought you had no feelings when I first met you."

"Oh?" She sniffled lightly, "Why is that?"

The wolf didn't exactly want to explain that it was because he had killed a member of her tribe, and she hadn't publicly shown her sorrow. He didn't want to bring up the past, and he didn't want to think of it. Here and now, he didn't have to. He realised now that Laika didn't lack empathy. She simply did not allow herself to express it. And who would, in a tribe like hers? With a Baron like hers?

"Because you're so damn mean to me," the wolf finally said with a smirk. "Getting so mad at me for asking questions about your tribe!"

She chuckled, and sniffled again, "Okay, okay. I apologise."

"You are only sorry because you know as well as I do that you ask just as many questions."

"Maybe," she said, smiling again. "So why don't we just get all of them out of the way?"

"Huh?"

Laika persisted, "All of our questions. Let's ask all of them right now so we don't have to annoy each other anymore. We're stuck here together, aren't we? At least for now. We might as well know who we are working with."

The wolf thought for a moment, and then agreed, "Well, alright. That sounds like a plan."

"Okay, then," Laika sat up, staring at the wolf with focus, "I'll go first. Your name?"

The wolf spoke with softness, "I had a name, but now, I no longer wish to bear it. It was given to me by my parents before they passed. I don't remember them, but with that name I bore, I remembered their absence. I had an emptiness where my parents and family should have been. Even with the pack, who I loved, I was still always alone."

"And you never got another name?"

"What?"

Laika rolled her eyes, "You've spent all these years without a name? Really? You can come up with a new one, one that is looking forward instead of back."

"You don't think my parents would mind?"

"No," Laika said, sincerely, "I think your parents would be proud of y0u for moving on. Changing your name... it doesn't erase them or their memory. Others in your pack still carry those memories, too. It just puts you at ease and puts them to rest."

The wolf sighed, laying down, "Alright, then. What should my name be?"

"Well..." Laika glanced around the room, and then at the grey wolf himself, as if searching for his name somewhere in the damp den. A few moments of thinking silence, eyes narrowed in focused thought, and then she spoke with excitement, "I got it. You will be called Afore. It means to move ahead."

"Afore?... I suppose that's an okay name."

"Oh, shut up. It's a great name, especially for a beast."