The Heartwood Edge control

The only way Treason would be able to keep up with more wordy sorts would be if she was busily trying to verbally eviscerate someone, so it was probably for the best she'd kept cutting to the point.  The less she spoke, the less things were going to go off the rails.  Probably.

To her, taste didn't matter.  It was fuel to keep her going, and even better was the fact it was so easy.  If you screwed up hunting a rabbit, the whole neighborhood would be wary for hours, but the fish were so plentiful and so dumb that waiting a minute before trying again might be unnecessary.  Mm, your loss.  I'd bring most of them home if I could carry them.  It was unfortunate wolves didn't come with backpacks.  At least it didn't seem scarcity of prey was everywhere, just located back on their mountain.  Thus far Treason's ventures elsewhere had been productive and she stayed at much the same level of fitness as she'd been before anyone noticed the change.

She watched him for a moment longer then lay down to start picking at the fish's now still form, apparently having decided that no, he really wasn't going to steal her fish.  If he wanted an actual conversation, it was always faster to not completely gorge herself in the middle of a sentence.  It wasn't like the river was going to empty in the next few minutes either.  Sunspire.  Yourself?  Somewhere west or he'd be really far from home.