Blackfeather Woods I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy

There were few that the male trusted to deliver him food, but Seff had become one of them. He felt confident that the boy wouldn't try anything, especially given the various threats that he'd received since the two had met. Harm, punishments, the inability to become special—he'd used various words to say the same thing: should the child ever betray him, there'd be hell to pay. For that reason alone, the Inuit couldn't view Seff as being capable of poisoning or assisting in an attack. He was just some kid that followed the elder boy's orders, and—hopefully—no one else's.

Xan had been curled up towards the back of the cave, trying to sleep, when he'd heard his name being called. It made his ears fall flat, the pitch of the voice having been something along the lines of painful. What stood out, however, was the fact that there'd come an admittance of failure. Seff hadn't done as he'd been told, he'd instead made it so the pallid male might go the day without eating anything. Uncoiling, he pushed himself up onto his feet, his pace slow as he'd made his way towards the entrance. There was a glare within his gaze and a twitch of his lips, not the least bit pleased. "If the deer got away, then why didn't you go after something else?" he'd questioned, voice low. "Why didn't you try again?" Hunger fueled his words, partially, though a majority of his hostility came from the pent-up anger that had been building up for quite some time now.