They grin, showing a flash of teeth. Their fur's a silvery white, streaked with darker gray stripes, their eyes large and blue, a mane woven with colorful beads spilling down their back.

"This one is welcome," they say. "Rats are rather vicious at times."

Pretty! 

 "I like your beads!" He says, briefly distracted, then, "They were venomous. That shouldn't be allowed." Is he whining? Maybe a bit. 

"Thanks. And perhaps this one can submit a complaint to the Rattish Business Bureau," the khajiit says.

He laughs, "Maybe I will!" He looks around; how far to Whiterun did he get anyway? 

"What were you doing before you stumbled on me? Anything I can help with? As thanks." 

He's pretty close! The stables are in sight, though he'd rolled off the side of the road, closer to the stream, so it's reasonable no one ran out to help him immediately.

"This one was going out to redirect some wolves who had become too aggressive with farmers," they say. "This year has been hard on everyone, and this one was hoping to explain to the wolves where better food is found. Wood elves can speak to animals, yes?"

He blinks in surprise - pleased surprise. Most people don't realise he's a half-elf. 

"Yeah! Well, some of them - some animals, some mer. I can do wolves. Probably. I can't guarantee they'll listen, though - and compelling is a different matter, I'm not great at that branch of Illusion." 

They laugh, a bit husky. "This one has a talent with wolves."

He thinks back to last night (hopefully) and smirks, "So do I." He shakes his head, "Between the two of us, we should have it covered, then! Lead the way," he pauses, realising he hadn't gotten their name yet, "Oh, and I'm Gaemir." 

"Tasha'es the Silver. Most Nords call this one just Silver, though."

He motions for them to lead the way.

"I'm not really much of a Nord," he points out, "I can call you Tasha'es if you prefer it?"

"Certainly." They begin walking again.

"Alright!" 

And so onwards to the wolves they go. 

The farmer's rather grateful to see them, filling them both in on where the wolves have been coming from.

Tasha'es, apparently, is an experienced tracker, and quickly picks up a trail from the chicken coop out into the wilderness. They reach the wolf den rather quickly, and Tasha'es pauses outside of it. "They are wary of us," they say, "But they know we are here."

He frowns, "Do you have a plan? I don't like the idea of entering their den without permission, and I doubt they will either."

"This one was hoping to convince one of their elders to emerge. Sometimes this takes very long, though, if this one does not have their speech."

He nods, "Alright."

Speaking to animals doesn't actully involve speaking, exactly, in the way the two-legged races do. If he's doing it himself, it's more body language than anything, usually just presenting himself as unthreatening, so long as unprovoked, so he can pass through unmolested. For something more complex, like this, he'd usually call on his House spirit to interpret, but... 

He glances over at Tasha'es. Actually, they probably won't mind this one, he thinks. 

"Camoraan," he states, conversationally. 

What. Demands a deep 'voice' from above. Except they're not hearing it with their ears. 

When they look up, they'll find a small, striped and spotted cat with enormous eyes settled in a tree. They eye Tasha'es with mild interest before turning back to Gaemir. 

You called me, kitten?

He looks over at Tasha'es, "I usually ask for Camoraan's help when I'm trying to communicate something more complicated than 'just passing through'," he explains. 

He turns up to Camoraan, "We're trying to convince this wolf pack to move elsewhere, so they can find better food sources and stop taking the nearby farmers'. Would you mind interpreting?" 

They make a soft 'whrr'ing noise, then hop down from their branch to settle closer to the pair. 

...For you, kitten. They agree.

They look up at Tasha'es, somehow giving the impression of looking down instead, An elder, yes? I will assist. 

They twist about and pad into the cave. Their paws leave no marks on the ground. 

"Very helpful," they say, grinning.

He grins back. Camoraan is the best of all House spirits. 

They come padding back a few minutes later. A wolf follows them out of the cave just as they reach the two. 

He is obviously old - the colour of his muzzle has faded entirely, a contrast to his dark fur. He's wary, his hair standing on end to make him look about half again as big, but he's here. 

 I have told him what you want, Camoraan says, He wants to know where you suggest they move. The food here is easily gathered, so long as they avoid the farmers. 

Tasha'es has suggestions! They're perhaps weirdly familiar with where the best hunting and dens for wolf-shaped beings are around here, with notes about which areas sometimes have werewolves (those usually have less competition, though, and Tasha'es is fairly sure the werewolves won't attack non-prey, and they rarely come out, anyways); they also offer to help get the pack established in their new home, when they next get a chance to swing by. And they also have warnings that the farmers have allies, who might be less reasonable about the limited food problem.

The idea of farmers having allies is familiar to the wolf. He has survived several wolf hunts in his time. He listens to Tasha'es and then eyes them for a long moment, before turning back towards the cave. 

He will discuss it with the pack leaders. He is respected, but can not guarantee anything, Camoraan says. 

Huh. They must spend a lot of time out of the city. It's possible he should mention to the Linnea that someone might have figured the Companions out? Then again, if they haven't blown the secret open they probably aren't going to without good reason. 

"You must do a lot of hunting," he comments while they wait.