The Heartwood things lost to the flames

He watches as her startled expression melts into one of hospitality and he shifts his weight, trying to quell the earthquakes that threaten to betray his composed demanor but she asks him if he's alright and he knows that something has given him away.  Varick breathes in deep, letting out a long sigh that shatters the painful silence in the Heartwood.  I am fine.  It is an outright lie, but at least one he hopes is not obvious.

He lingers on the burned carcasses of the trees, of singed grass and smoky air and finds her description to be both juvenile and inadequate, so he furrows his brows and finds words of his own. This was once a kingdom, guarded by wood sentinels of great size and longevity that has been unjustly razed to the ground by tongues of fire.  He turns to her before resuming. It is devastation.

Varick looks at the pond beneath them, spying the fish that darted back and forth in fear, struggling to survive in the barren wastes around them.  It comes to him that she was likely trying to hunt and although he should be embarrassed or abashed, these are feelings that he has chosen to ignore.  Instead, a swipe of his paw brings one to the surface and he pushes it towards her.