Bearclaw Valley i wish i was a normal girl, i'll never be

His mouth twisted into something resemblancing distaste as she asked which cult he followed, though he was careful to mold it into something more pleasant, so as not to offend her. The question rankled him, though. Why did everyone always label groups different from their own beliefs as "cults"? The word was not a flattering one.

"My religion," he answered, with the tiniest bit of emphasis on the second word, "worships the moon and stars. They guide our path." He said no more, not wanting to ramble on until she asked any further questions, if she had any. Some people weren't interested in lore whatsoever.

Phocion did smile, though, at her offer to teach him to hunt. "That would be wonderful," he assured her, weaving deftly through a couple of trees drawn close together. "I do what I can to survive, but more lessons would improve my skills immensely. And there's the added bonus of food involved," Phocion added, with a chuckle.

He stared at the bush, admiring the colorful flowers adorning its greenery. He saw the thorns she mentioned and kept his muzzle well away from them, instead gently pulling flowers from the bush with the edge of his teeth.