Arrow Lake ludens

It is! Thank you for the spree!

Jigsaw doesn't press for details, which Redshank is thankful for. In truth, his origins had faded from memory long ago; the names of his mother, father, and siblings lost to time, if he even once knew them at all. He didn't want to spill his woe-is-this-poor-orphan-boy sob story to the wholehearted young stranger who had helped him enough this day. Instead, he latches onto his name, perking up with what seemed like legitimate interest. All it earned Jigsaw, however, was an offhanded shrug.

He was unsure where the name had come from (if it was even his birth name), but he had liked it, and so kept it. Though he had come across many who had shed their former identities in favour of adopting new ones. "Yours too," he shot back with a flash of teeth in what was meant to be a smile. Odd though his name really was, Redshank supposed he might as well flatter him a little. What he really was curious about was his peculiar patterning, and the way he looked like a wolf but also didn't in a way he just couldn't quite put his paw on, but he supposed those were questions for another time.

He felt his stomach begin to settle, growling once more for food. He would keep near to his own special regurgitated patch just in case, but the thought of bringing that up again kept him from consuming it. Instead, Redshank eyed the twisted carcass of the fox, wondering which bone would be meaty enough to be worth the effort of tearing off. The lull in the conversation hung for a minute or two more, before he finally forced out a, "th-thanks." The word felt strange against his tongue. "For the help."