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The white wolf-dog decided at that moment that even when things were difficult he would feel okay, as long as his life was real in all the ways that mattered. With that, he was able to get a little sliver of sleep, awakened here and there by rolling thunder bouncing in from outside to and fro on the cave walls.

He chose to remain alert while sleeping in case his mate decided to make a late-night visit.

Oddly enough, Oddly enough, it was not a single sound that woke him from his light slumber, it was instead a scent. Finbar had smelled it before, and he knew that it was a type of fox. He’d never encountered this kind before, whatever it was.

He shot his golden eyes open and spotted the intruder immediately; it was definitely a fox, but one with a strangely colored pelt.

It was a mix of browns and white; a dark brown body to chestnut color, with white stripes on the tail, and white front legs. It had a white muzzle and forehead, which extended back into a white neck mane. The brightness of its snout was contrasted by its black nose.

Finbar growled, lifting his head to glare at the fox. These were small creatures compared to him and couldn’t do much damage, at least not now that he’d made peace with his wild counterpart—the wolf.

The fox froze in place, spotting him. “Hey now! Don’t get your tail twisted. I’m not here to bother you, I just want to get out of the rain. Can you stand my presence for that long?” he yapped with quite a displeased face.

Finbar snorted, chagrined that this male fox had gotten so fresh with him. He stood up and frowned at the critter. “You may stay, so long as you behave yourself and don’t show a single fang to me or my mate should she visit,” the wolf-dog wrinkled his nose.

“Yea, man, I wouldn’t,” the fox nodded, hopping up on a decayed log lodged in the wall. “Thank you. Now, would you relax?”

Gradually, Finbar’s tensed muscles loosened up and his facial expression grew more neutral. In all reality, the fox seemed like he would rather be left alone; he was not likely to be a threat.

Finbar leaned in the fox’s direction, sniffing. “I’ve never seen a fox like you before,” he tilted his head.

The brown fox narrowed his olive green eyes, warily. “I’m a half-breed, like you. My father was a border collie, my mother a red fox.”

Finbar sighed, sitting down. “I guess we’re all a little mixed up, then, huh? I didn’t even know that was possible.”

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“Shit happens,” said the fox, who began to groom himself dry.

“It does, yes,” the white canine watched the cave visitor, huffing a small laugh at the comment. “So, if you’re going to stay here, you’d best state your name. I’m Finbar.”

“Bruno.”

“Where are you from?”

“The lakes region to the south.”

“Ah. Yeah, I come from there too. Sanbornton.”

Bruno twitched his whiskers, not looking up from his grooming. “What brings you all the way up here?”

Finbar let out a short grim laugh, his big ears perked proudly. “I was left here. A man I once called ‘friend’ intended to kill me, but as you can see… I still live.”

“It’s what they do,” the fox commented. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The white wolf-dog let out a low grumble at the thought of his past. It had all been just a facade, a wishful dream. “It’s quite alright. I can’t miss him when he never loved me to begin with,” he responded.

Bruno huffed. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“How long have you been out here?” Finbar asked curiously, watching his new acquaintance.

The fox stopped to think. “Er… must be years at this point,” he answered, furrowing his brows introspectively. “I’d say about 5 years now?”

Finbar perked his ears up at the information. “Ah, so you’re experienced.”

“You could say that. I know how to evade danger, and humans. I know all the best hunting spots, all the dens around the woods that small critters like to use, and all the water sources,” Bruno explained, licking the last drops of water from his coat. Though he still appeared damp and ragged, he was much puffier than before. He would be completely dry in no time at all. “I also know where there are human settlements, as well as farms, and even other wolf-dogs.”

“That's impressive,” he commented, “I have a question, now that you mention it. How did you know I'm a wolf-dog?” The white canine tilted his head, flattening his ears. Perhaps it was his appearance, or his smell, or maybe it had simply been a good guess; either way, Finbar needed to know what set him apart from “the dog” he had always believed he had been, and “the wolf” he never knew he was.

The brown-and-white fox-dog laughed, the sound echoing on the chilly cave walls. “Simple. You smell weird. Only partly like a wolf, with another part being like a dog. The two mixed together is… odd as a combination.”

Finbar huffed humorously, raising a brow and grinning. “Thanks. It's nice to know I'm weird.”

“Oh, lighten up,” Bruno laid down and yawned. “No one actually cares what you are, except humans… and maybe some of the stuck up pure-blooded wolf packs scattered about.”

"Do you know the pack nearby here?” He inquired.

“Balto's pack?”

“Yes.”

“They're a kind lot, but also proud; you'd do best never to double-cross them, or show them disrespect. Why?”

“I was just curious. What is Balto like to strangers?”

Finbar had been told great things about him by his dear Willow, but he feared that because he was her father that her words for it were quite biased. An outside opinion would aid him greatly… sooner or later, he'd have to make himself known to him, and the white wolf-dog prayed he would not get his head bitten off for impregnating his daughter.

The fox hybrid snuggled up with his fluffy tail over his button nose, whiskers twitching, eyes closed comfortably. “He's been good to me in the past, offering shelter and food when I need it. He can be a hard ass sometimes, but he does what he does for the good of those he loves, I promise. Don't tell him I said that.”

That did somewhat ease Finbar's worries. Hopefully he had nothing to be freaked out over.