Blackfeather Woods your wallet is on a permanent diet

Thank you for the thread, I love Drusk!

We could fade here, and maybe I can start a new one nearby if that's okay, or we could do one more round?

Prompting Fona as a name only yielded an ambivalent noise; Gavrel corrected himself, reasoning that Fona perhaps referred to the assailant. He was painfully aware that they were sitting ducks here, beat into hiding by the storm.

Gavrel recognized this game: perfunctory sign language crossed with charades, made only more difficult by the strobing lightning, each flash making his breath catch. Though he knew that a fire could never start in such hail, his nose strained for the telltale scent of smoke. He took in a deep inhale -- from which he couldn't parse anything but wet dirt and iron.

Ver must be wolf, he reasoned. Gavrel suppressed a warning growl when he bared his teeth, but he understood.

He knew what he himself had just said: if they find us, you're fucked, but could he just leave this yearling, who'd had every chance to attack Gavrel but instead was painstakingly translating an answer, morpheme by tedious morpheme, tense as they were in their ambient fear? He knew infection, and how the smallest choices could set an animal on a path of slow, awful, pathogenic decline.

Gavrel resolved to himself -- after the storm passed, he would see the boy to a river, or some body of running water. From there, he could figure out what to do.