Sawtooth Spire As easy as rolling off a log

She heard the sharp note in his voice and it gave her momentary pause, a string of bloody meat dangling like a limp noodle from between her front teeth. Quell quickly slurped it into her mouth and smacked her lips as she considered his explanation. He questioned the nature of Elixir's relationship with Cortland. His guess was as good as hers. Q had been very young the last time she'd seen either of them and, especially after her head injury, those memories were very fuzzy indeed.

"I honestly barely remember them," Quell said baldly, pausing again to gauge his reaction to this information. Perhaps she should, though honestly Q didn't feel sad about it. She had been shunted around a lot in her short life, yet it had all been such an adventure. Between that and her faulty memories, she really couldn't say she had any regrets.

Bolting down a few more hearty mouthfuls—because eating like a lady was for the birds—Quell then sat back and wiped a foreleg across her mouth before saying, "I look like you and know you best, so I think I should be an Ass—an Ansbjørn." She enunciated it slowly, not particularly wishing to offend her paternal grandmother's memory. "Or I could be like the wolves of Seabolt," she continued conversationally, "and take my pack's name as my surname. I'ono though, Quellcrist Sagtannet is a mouthful," she opined before shoving a hunk of rabbit brains in her pie hole.