Redhawk Caldera The demigorgon stole my sister

Trick? Lagan was pretty sure that was not a name. But then again, he had no idea what Lagan or Liffey even meant, so at least Trick had some substance. He gave Tricky a small smile before turning to his meal. Uncle P gave his head a quick ruffle, making his soft silver pelt tussled, a large tuft sticking straight up. He hummed happily, twisting to look over at Uncle P. He really liked the black furred male, he never disappointed, kind of like his papa. 

Finally he returned to his lunch, digging in whole heartedly. It didn't take him long to demolish, when he was done he yawned loudly and licked his lips. Now interested in the conversation, Lagan stepped away from his kill to look and listen to the two black wolves, his little brain attempting to soak up the language. Mouth agape as he tried intently to understand, he recognized some of the speech, but some of it was new.

What he missed was bloody something, and Grace Chick. The rest of it he either pieced together or decided didn't matter. But what was bloody h- and what was a grace chick? A confused and frustrated expression lit his face, it was obvious how hard he was trying to make sense of their nonsensical blabber. Finally he gave in, they had beaten him at the word game. Gunclee pee wath a grath chick? He interjected, very much interrupting. The Blackthorn boy didn't know he was being rude, he was just very curious. He didn't really even know what rude meant, it's definition eluded him.