Whitefish River No clouds, we shoot them out the sky

To Dauntless's relief, the task seemed simple enough. He watched her demonstration carefully anyway, and only when it was done did he feel quite comfortable speaking again. "I'm Dauntless," he replied, and then immediately wished he'd said My name is Dauntless instead. But her name was Speedy, of all things, so he didn't think she'd be too fussed about his phrasing. She'd done the same thing, after all.

He moved toward the tree and reared back on his hind legs, teetering awkwardly for a moment before he braced a paw against the trunk and repeated the delicate gesture. Or tried to -- he couldn't get a hold of the bark at first, but after scraping at it with his teeth for a moment, found purchase. It was as simple as she'd made it seem after that, and he dropped the strip he'd procured near, but not quite on, the pile she already had before going in for a second one.

"So," he said between gritted teeth, and then waited until his mouth was free before finishing the thought, "You do medicine, I guess?" Real smart, Dauntless.