The Heartwood I'll be wearing these scars for everyone to see.

The squirrel, bold in its hunger, moved to venture down onto the forest floor almost as soon as Dacio turned his face away. He kept a dark ear trained on the scrawny rodent, eager to maintain its confidence by believing he wasn't considering it as his next meal. So keenly focused on this tiny creature, the young Drakru missed the quiet watch of another hunter.

She swept forward, launching herself atop the tree-climber and bringing its swift end while Dacio stared hopelessly from between the trees. When at last she took note of him, the prey fell limp from between her jaws to land on the ground at her feet.

It was then that the she-wolf did a strange thing, something that made Dacio twitch a whisker curiously. She had won this meal fairly, yet somehow felt the need to offer it to him. The young Gona, hungry and with Opalia at the forefront of his mind, considered asserting himself and taking advantage of the gesture so that he and his sister might taste flesh that day.

But he was not yet starving enough to sway his pride. He'd merely eyed the squirrel; Dacio had no real right to it.

"No," he told her simply in the common tongue, indicating that he had not understood the other language she'd spoken. "You take."