Duck Lake you claw, you fight, you lose.

Her voice is soothing to a point, although it is the language that he covets and not the meaning he is interested in. Few can speak their tongue, so to hear it is comforting and inspiring regardless of how wounded his sister may feel. He grunts softly, licking his lips before responding, and then drawls, wux jahen winhal shafaer dout kurjh. Betelgeuse trusts in his sister the way he trusts in all their kin; she is a warrior just as much as he is, perhaps with differing methods and means, but still a warrior.

The beast allows her to come close. He is less lenient with his family, and his sister is perhaps the only woman he regards with any respect; as she has shown him great love and care, Betelgeuse is less inclined to snap at her touch or raise his voice to her. It took a moment or two for his thoughts to shift from the failed chase of the doe to his sister, but even then it was a muddy affair. maulk mrith ve - usv ihk ve - myvish, wux vucot svanoa si shilta ti. His voice is a rumble of quiet uncertainty, and he looks away from her, ashamed after admitting defeat.