Sun Mote Copse The Art of the Dinner Date

"Not really - branches to trees are like fur to us. They can break and fall off, but new ones will grow back and there is no lasting damage," Wraen sought for the best association that would also be easy for Sugar Glider to comprehend. "A tree can survive even, if the sturdiest branches are taken down during storms," she added, but wolves weren't so lucky. Tear a leg off a wolf and - well - they are dead.

"Come and have a look here," she beckoned the girl to follow to the nearest tree, name and species of which were irrelevant to the lesson she was about to give. Wrean picked up a fallen twig, placed one paw to fix it to the ground and worked on it with her teeth, until greyish-brown bark was separate from the whiteish-yellow heartwood. "Lifeline of the tree is it's bark," she told and showed the strips and pieces of it. "Cut it really deep, cut it all around the tree trunk until you see the the heartwood," she pointed to the whiteish part, "and you have killed the tree. No matter the size and age."