Blackfeather Woods Back then, when I stupidly took pride

If looks could kill, there’s no way the woman would be standing before the boy any longer. His gaze only seemed to intensify as she started to speak, with irritation being carved into his features at what he’d been called. He knew that, compared to the adults, he was small, but he hated being reminded of that fact. Someday he’d be bigger, sporting long legs like his father—that was something he was certain of. In the meantime, however, he wanted to make sure no one ever got away with referring to him as being smaller. As her sentence continued, he could do nothing but scoff and roll his eyes, something he knew he’d get in trouble for if his father was around. Luckily for him, though, the elder wolf wasn’t there, and so he didn’t hold himself back from showing off his annoyance. “It wouldn’t have hurt me,” he countered, taking on a matter-of-fact-like tone. “It was scared of me. It would have lost.” Not a trace of hesitation could be plucked from his voice, showing just how strongly he believed in what he was saying. The stupid creature had freaked out over having its tail chomped on, so no way it could stand a chance against the pale whelp. As was what he thought, anyways.

The boy stared at her once she mentioned asking his parents, before giving a shake of his head. “My mom doesn’t live here, and my dad is probably busy.” Probably. Maybe. Most likely not. The Inuit had said before that he’d teach the child, but there was a stubbornness embedded deep into Xan’s mentality that made him want to do things on his own. Why ask his dad when he could just go out and take care of things himself? Speaking of his father… the woman held a slight trace of the ghost’s scent on her, leading him to believe they’d met. Did they know one another? “I can smell my dad on you.” The words came out suddenly and without pause, odd-coloured optics looking her over. He observed her with the same type of calculating gaze his dad often possessed, but it was clear he could not yet read others nearly as well—and it wasn't known whether he'd ever acquire that skill or not. “I’m Xan. Who are you?” His introduction came quickly, leaving out his surname. Hell, he didn’t even give his entire first name, just his preferred nickname. He believed it to be better that way, though. It lessened the likelihood of her referring to him by his full name, which was something he liked.