Fox's Glade silvertongue

It seemed as though something he had said struck her as being odd. His expression fell as she looked to him with a questioning glance before inquiring about his reasons for that particular collection. The thief regarded her with a soft glow in his gaze before he glanced away and fixed his attention to the dirt and the rocks. Finding it difficult to formulate the proper way to provide her with a response, the coywolf looked back to her warm red features with a slightly gaping mouth and a slump in his nimble frame. “Imperfect creatures fight harder. Flawed ones are stronger,” he admitted to her, though he did not feel as though the response was good enough. It was a simple as he could make it in such a difficult tongue, but he hoped that she would accept it without judgment.