Another had come, and Kotake turned her head in their direction. This was a wolf whose face she recognized, and so she was not anxious when seeing it. His hate toward her family was not known to the cub, and so as he watched her mutely she did the same, her cool, unwavering gaze perhaps unsettling when coming from a face meant to be so sweet and cherubic. Other than her movement to turn her gaze toward him, Kotake was otherwise a statue. Nearby to Kotake was a day old rabbit carcass that she had been warned away from twice over. A breeze ruffled her furs, as well as the furs of the limp, cold thing nearly beside her.

Neither of them moved. Kotake herself was as still as a statue, her disposition seemingly serene with the exception of her hard, stony gaze. She was calm. Kotake did not know this wolf, though she knew few with the exception of her family. Only now was Kotake able to leave her natal den and wander, after all. Though he had disturbed her, Kotake had no desire to return to her previous task any longer. Perhaps this wolf would teach her something. All, silent or otherwise, provided her with lessons she would not forget.

He moved toward her now, and Kotake was quickly able to deduce why as his sights were no longer upon her. Kotake stared at the thing he looked to, a thing she normally was permitted to eat. This one, for whatever reason, she had not been. Her keen memory caused her to turn to look at him, her eyes flashing. There was no challenge within her, no authoritative rise to her voice or her posture as she informed him, as the wolf whom had informed her, of his wrongdoing: No, came her first word, pronounced perfectly. She watched, though, interested. What would happen if he did not listen? And then, the food-possessive child within her reared its head. Kotake wanted the food for herself. For her own part, Kotake was unable to detect the scent the boy before her had noted. Scents were still things she was coming to learn about. All she knew was that the thing beside her smelled like food.

Again, the two were at an impasse. He heeded her words, and she wondered at the gravity of the word. Her gaze turned back toward the creature, which lay limp between them. As he had not made a move for it, neither had she. If a wolf as big as he obeyed the Word, then she supposed it held more meaning than she imagined. The creatures blood, or perhaps the creature itself, had been laced with something deadly—unbeknownst to either of the two wolves.

As the male moved to place a paw upon the thing, Kotake rose to all fours and mirrored his movements. Her gaze shifted from morsel to man, and though she licked her chops she repeated, as steadily as before: no. His obedience, or lack thereof, would determine her next move.

She was not strong enough to mimic him now. She could try to pull it toward her, and she did for a moment. But the weight of the creature was too much for the cub who was not yet even two months. And so she, when he stopped, placed her paw atop it again. This was hers. She attempted to even mirror his facial expression, but as she did not oft express herself this way it was a poor attempt.

Ah!

As he moved to eat it, Kotake—not even noting the look in his eye—let out another: no, before her anger at his impertinence reached its threshold. He did not regard no. Why should she? And so she moved to take a bite of the thing before his lips could quite touch it, her victory at having gotten a bite first simple as she glanced to him. There was no gloating, no song and dance. Kotake was not smug, either; she simply felt she had won by getting at it, first.

The nauseous feeling came but a few minutes after. Her stoic expression morphed into one of pain as she felt her stomach twist in a way she had not once experienced before. She glanced toward Atshen, knowing he was not guilty of the pain caused but wondering what it meant. It didn't feel good, and the change in her demeanor was obvious.

It was all happening at what felt like, within herself, a minute. The pain was not yet excruciating, and she was able to understand her mother. She moved to open her own mouth, and fortunately Atshen did, in fact, assist her in this. But she was unable to express her appreciation in the moment; her mind was clouded, and she was growing quite tired.