Kyo didn't balk at the word Kelvic as he once might have done. For a long long time he had thought Kelvic was bad. That it meant he was bad, meant he was different. He still was uncertain of what Kelvic was. But now, at least, he didn't shy away from the word. Kelvic, he thought, had something to do with the animal-form. Though he was in human-form now, and he had still just been called it. He didn't know. Myrian still confused him too, though he understood Human and Akalak.
Thinking about it, he realized each word associated with a different smell and sight. Akalak were big and blue --though they had other bright colors, too, like weird strong flower men. Humans had a more usual scent, though it was something more difficult for him to think about in words. Kelvics... he didn't know. His dogs were dogs; did that make them Kelvic?
During this, the young man said something about language, and Kyo perked up, nodding his head. Yes, he knew what Kyo had been trying to say. "No language," he agreed, tasting the shape of the word and forming it carefully, "No good."
Questions came, and the coyote-man felt like he wanted to answer very badly, so much it was like a need. But it was so difficult. Human words. Humans needed so so many. Kyo didn't have nearly enough. He tried as best he could.
"Yes belong," he said, following more closely to how the human-form had said that last word, no longer drawing it out. "Belong... belong good. Good live. No belong bad. Bad." He remembered how sad and awful-lonely it was to be away and alone. Away from his boy was terrible. Away from all people was worse. He remembered being sick. In the head like there was no sun in the sky and in his body like he couldn't eat or even walk or run. He felt a whisper of that sadness now, a howling deep inside. An emptiness. Without thinking about it, he scooted closer to this new person, this new friend, and maybe felt better. He blew out a breath.
As for where his boy was, and how he couldn't speak... he didn't know. Uncertainty crossed him, like not knowing if one was strong enough to continue. He went on as best he could. For the human. "Kyo belong good-friend." That was the best he had for his boy, and not near good enough. He grimaced like he'd tasted something bad. "Good-friend no stay. Other place. Kyo no rest. No sleep, no slow. Try for good-friend." He shook his head, eyes suddenly sad, hugging Brother tighter. The dog licked his shoulder, tail wagging low, eyes on the stranger. "No good. No good. Kyo can't speak..." Another rush of frustration. He frowned. Then shrugged, a helpless movement. "Kyo stay no place. No live city. No live people, no speak." Now it was different. He lived in the blue city called Riverfall with the blue men. But before it had been just him and his Brother and Sister for the longest time out away from everyone else. He remembered some of before that. He remembered his boy, and some bad people. But not much more.
The city question was hard, too. Because the city had been bad. Before. Bad enough that Kyo and his dogs had gone out and left and waited. But the badness was gone, now. The bad moods and feelings. It was better. "No bad place. City... clean. Good. Welcome. No worry, friend."
Saying friend reminded him that he didn't know this person's call. His name. He wouldn't need it, would know the human's scent from now on and would remember. But human-forms liked names. And it was easier to say a name than it was to say what a person smelled like. Searching now, Kyo pointed to himself, said, "Kyo," then pointed to the young man, saying in a voice that held a question, "Friend...?"
