Otter Creek I'll [m]ake your timber shiver

Xan hadn't considered it to be a shame, not really. Having never been one to receive compliments, he knew not how it felt to be spoken to so kindly, and so he could not miss it. He was used to just being there, causing trouble for his family unintentionally, and then taking his troubles out on others. That was the way in which he worked, and so the fact that his positive features had never been commented on wasn't much of a surprise. Especially so since, in the eyes of others, he probably didn't actually have any redeeming features. He simply was, and nothing more. While that did bother him to some degree, it was not because of vanity, but because he had a goal in life that could not be achieved lest he receive recognition—which is exactly what the stranger had offered to him, but in a way that had made the Inuit's head spin and stomach twist.

His indirect threat had not been taken seriously, from what the boy could tell, having caused for his eyes to narrow in response. And even though he'd then taken a step forward, he'd found himself unable to take another. "No," he'd said once again, his tone awfully blunt. "I won't kill you." But I could, he'd added silently, but there was little truth to his thoughts and he knew it. There was a burning sensation in his chest, just like how he'd always felt when angered, but this time he didn't want to sink his teeth into anything. He wanted to understand, to learn, but that desire only ever morphed into varying degrees of irritation, and all were currently being aimed directly at the stranger. "Are you just going to stand there, or what?" Xan was very busy, after all. He had both places and thoughts to avoid.