The fox's brow furrowed slightly. He sniffed the air again, and now that the boy had pointed it out it seemed obvious. His scent was all over the place, not just fresh, but old as well. "You live here?" He repeated, a little taken aback. What was a creature so spindly and delicate looking doing living amongst trees he wondered. Curiosity piqued, Ash stood and walked around the boy in a slow semi-circle, taking in everything there was to see of him.
"Not all foxes talk, only the best of us," Ash said, almost conversationally, as if it were a simple fact, "The oldest and, dare I say, wisest and most beautiful." He smiled to himself, allowing his eight tails to fan around him as he sat back down in a patch of dried leaves. It was difficult not to preen when he was as proud as he was. "Why do you live here?" He asked, unable to resist the mystery Wren was laying before him.