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Black sniffed over the spot on the rock, then dropped his head low, snuffling around on the ground. He was so absorbed in his task that he barely noticed the voice, and even when he did, spared it only a glance.
He kept searching--this was unique, maybe it was what he was looking for? Sickly-sweet and metallic, like rotting flowers and blood. Sniff, sniff.
He cast up and down the tunnel for the track, but could find nothing. The wind and ice had swept the scent away. Damn.
Abruptly, Black stopped, looking up to stare directly at the fennec fox.
"Searching. There was a thing that ran. I must find it. It must be brought to the Aquarian." He paused, tilting his head, pendulous ears dangling.
"Have you seen it? What are you?"
Black then glanced around. This fox reminded him vaguely of the white kitten. Since he couldn't find a scent trail, he ought to go and check on her, and make sure she was safe. But first--and here in this thought process, he looked back down at the fox--who was this?
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Black perked up large ears, peering down at this thing that scrambled about him. He lifted one paw, then the other, almost dancing to get out of her way, then stopped and just let her run about.
The fox spoke of making him feel good, and immediately, he did; he recognized the bloom of magic and knew it to be linked to his sudden surge of health. That would most certainly be useful.
She was offering to help. She was helping. Briefly, he wondered why--and most other Gembound would have asked it. Why would such a perky, happy-go-lucky tiny thing suddenly appear, and fully commit to some unknown cause? But to Black, it did not matter. She would help, and that was enough for him. Still, he felt it wouldn't be right if he didn't warn her.
"There is danger. Its life may end. If it accepts this, it would be welcome on the Dog's quest. It may stand on my back. I am strong, and can carry it through the tunnel where the ice slips away." He paused, and then added, "What is its name?"
Without waiting, Black turned, heading for the entrance of tunnel M--the place of his birth. He glanced over his shoulder only once, to see if the little foxling would follow.