Fox's Glade be cunning, and full of tricks

Ah, she had run. The thief dipped his crown in a knowing fashion and cast his gaze to the side as if to offer her a moment of privacy from the depths of his bronze optics. To him, the concept of running was not unfamiliar, and he imagined that his home would applaud her choices. The phrase of his birth still held true to him, so he may well have feigned his understanding. Fixing her once more with his sights, the crow canted his head to the left and cast a thoughtful frown to his thin-lipped muzzle. “All the world will be your enemy,” he breathed to her. Inlé was a cool and tricky creature to have left such a thing with the likes of Tadec. Still, the thief carried it well and lived strictly to the life that had been intended for him.
 
“Why run?”