[ He glances sideways, to make sure play is play, but Trass seems delighted to roll around and keep sniffing, learning how close his New Friend will let him get. ]

Sometimes, yes. In Fjerda, the wolf is our brother.

[ As opposed to certain heathens who kill them and mount the skulls on their walls. Hmph. They can't afford to alienate such a useful animal — there's always packs near the settlements, and he has found villages where the trappers find a pup and keep it. ]

In the part of the army that I serve in, [ he catches himself using the present tense. But it's true. He is still a hunter, a man made to kill Grisha. Eight years don't amount to nothing. ] it is expected to have such a companion.

He made an impression on me, [ in the form of a scar on his right arm that Matthias still carries. He'd passed out from the blood loss, but Trass, just bigger than a pup, had bowled him over, licked him to the point of laughter, roughhoused with him and been his, and it'd been worth every drop. ] and we chose each other. So I raised him.

[ A beat, ]

So Crow is unique, amongst his kind? The only one who lives with a human?