Bearclaw Valley I’m your toy, I’m your toy, I’m your toy

He didn’t expect immediate forgiveness, but couldn’t keep his mind from entertaining the thought with a soft what if. It was foolish to do even that, though, and this he was quick to realise. The gift went untouched, spared hardly even a glance before she was accusing him—to which he didn’t know how to respond, rather taken aback by the context of her claim. His brow furrowed as he stared at her, tongue-tied and struggling to even comprehend what he’d just heard. Was that the reason for the way she looked back at him, because of something so incredibly silly?

Shifting his weight, he suddenly felt out of place; this wasn’t something he was used to dealing with. “You’re very pretty,” he managed to say, though the words were drawn out and his discomfort obvious. “I don’t think she’s prettier than you.” He liked to think that they were all of equal beauty—that was the answer that would get him in the least amount of trouble, generally. However, if he were to be completely honest, he couldn’t ignore how much more Indra stood out. She provided the greatest contrast to the females he was accustomed to seeing, so vibrantly coloured.

But Xan liked keeping things simple, and the idea of complimenting her in such a grand manner just seemed like a lot of work. Not to mention the trouble that it might set him up to get into, should she repeat his words to anyone.