Blackfeather Woods Curiosity killed the cat

The boy observed her, muzzle twitching slightly as his gaze neared her paws. She’d dug herself into a little ditch, though that wasn’t what bugged him. No, it was the fact that she was dirty. The hole-digging reminded him of Leo, as well as how much the Inuit had disliked seeing the little pits everywhere. All that ever came out of it was filth, and the want to stay immaculate was something he hadn’t outgrown. Her answer pulled him away from the horror scene and to her pale eyes, quirking an undefined eyebrow in the process. Perhaps he would have found the idea of what she was doing amusing if it weren’t for his serious nature. “Where it goes?” the elder repeated, disbelief flooding his tone. “Good luck with that. You’ll be digging until the day you die if you try to do that, and even then you’ll never reach the end.” Xan considered himself an expert, for the most part. He had experience with holes, as well as the earth itself. Having been born within a valley, he had a decent understanding of how thick the ground was, and couldn’t even fathom someone actually managing to reach the end of it.

“All you’re going to do by digging holes is dirty yourself,” he commented, his dislike of all things unclean quite obvious. The pallid male even took a step back and wrinkled his nose to better showcase how disgusted he was by the idea of someone mucking themselves up. “Others won’t like you if you’re unclean.” Of course, that wasn’t true, but there was no one there to stop him from spewing lies. She was younger than himself, after all, and most likely naïve enough to believe whatever he decided to tell her. That notion had his mind filling with all sorts of things he could tell her, all of which held a chance of bringing him amusement.