A little bonding moment between Wolfie and Zoltan.
Wolfie stroked Zoltan's matted fur lovingly, his large, innocent eyes trained on the stuffed wolf. He loved to trail his fingers over Zoltan and rub the wolf's head. Zoltan himself particularly relished the time when the back of his ears were gently scratched, and as Wolfie positioned his pudgy hand behind one of the stuffed wolf's ears, Zoltan howled in approval.
After scratching both of Zoltan's ears, Wolfie withdrew his hand and plopped onto the floor beside the stuffed wolf, his rubber chicken toy squeaking in his jacket pocket at the impact he made, sitting down on the floor.
As Zoltan lazily lifted his head, Wolfie glanced up at the wolf and spoke:
"Yes, Master Wolfie?"
Smiling at the accented drawl, Wolfie's courage was bolstered and he decided to plunge forwards with his questioning.
"So you're a wolf?"
"Am I? I believed that I was a goat."
Wolfie frowned, but his smile came back seconds later. "You're being funny! You're a wolf…. But you're a different kind of wolf…."
He trailed off, his mind attempting to work out the difference between Zoltan and the other wolves that he had encountered, which were not many, at his young age.
Zoltan, amused at the young crossbreed's questions, drawled: "The difference is that I am a wolf, and you, my young Master, are a werewolf, as is your father and the rest of his pack."
Suddenly, Wolfie jumped to his feet and hurried forwards, latching his arms around Zoltan's neck. He snuggled against the wolf's fur and whispered:
"I know how you're different!"
"Is it what I just told you?"
"No!" Wolfie leant back and grinned at Zoltan. "Me, Daddy, and the others are normal…. But you're a different wolf." He jabbed a finger at Zoltan's snout. Zoltan hissed, but he was left in stunned silence when the five year old triumphantly declared: