I realized I had gradually become accustomed to his presence.
He came back almost every day, and each day he brought new food.
Sometimes it was a mole, sometimes an armored beast, sometimes a mountain hare, sometimes a wild chicken...
He enjoyed roasting meat over the campfire while telling his own stories.
Sharing his experiences in the tribe, sharing his everyday routine.
Of course, more often than not, this involved complaining about the overbearing mine boss and the stubbornness of the tribe elders.
He didn't care whether I was actually listening or even if I could understand.
It seemed to him I was merely a silent confidant.
Of course, I also learned his name.
"Kael, my name is Kael, and I'm a werewolf."
"Mr. Black Dragon, could you tell me your name?"
He asked, smiling.
I turned my head away, ignoring him.
He scratched his head and I, with pride, lifted my chin and swallowed the piece of meat I had just put in my mouth.
