Names. Human names were so limited, mere sounds. A wolf's real name was more than a sound, it was image-scent-sound-concept, a wolf's essence compressed into a moment. Toboe had been a young voice quavering in the wind, song lifted to the sky; Tsume had been the bright-sharp flash of claw as he leapt in and out, tinted with the scent of the steel claws he used in human form; Hige was soft fur and warm meat in early evening, whiskers quivering on a soft breeze.
And he was - white, hard, sharp, ripping, hunter-killer, shining in the moonlight - a fang bared in challenge.