Oded did not think of the wolf as cute nor was he interested in the texture of its fur. He learned through touch and his curiosity was greatly peaked. Those eyes were watching him and he could see the intellect reflected there.
The wolf nudged his arm and Oded reached out, slipping his fingers through the fur to press against the skin beneath, reaching out with his powers, a wave of heat flashing through his thoughts, his nostrils filling with sulfur and brimstone, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes glowed red. The images came at an accelerated speed, bombarding his mind with hundreds of pictures. The wolf chained and tormented. The wolf attacking men with guns. The wolf limping. The wolf hiding. The wolf finding the cirque. The minutes ticked by and he did not move a muscle, his head hung forward, his hair having fallen in a cascade, his eyes were closed and only the gentle rise and fall of his chest suggested he was alive.
The images tapered off and Oded sat back, picking up his glass to take a drink. "You have come to the right place. No one will harm you at the Cirque and you have my word that I will never do anything you do not want me to do," he assured the little wolf. Shall I sing another song or perhaps I should escort you to your quarters?"