Sun Mote Copse burn the world that you call civilized

Figment might've been ignorant about what to expect in his position, but Tuvak was equally unprepared - perhaps more so, after living for such a long period of time on his own in the wilderness. At least when adults did it they could come back claiming personal development or something. For a kid such as himself, it was an ordeal just to stay alive, let alone come out of it without some level of undiagnosed trauma.

The questions posed by the dark boy were met with a pronounced sniff as well as a subtle recoil by Tuvak, as if the answers which flooded in to his mind were too grim to detail. To say that Tuvak had forgotten his family wasn't accurate: he remembered the mountain home, his mother, his siblings, but when he tried to recall anything from that period in his life he only felt the rise of panic in his breast; a flash of gore in the grass, the stomping of hooves, the chill of winter.

Nowhere, he quipped for the first question, then, —food, mmn. Isn't that why you're here? Had the boy not come to hunt, too? Or maybe the smell of the pheasant was something of a lure? But then again, he hadn't tried to take from him - so for a moment Tuvak was perplexed, and his sullen features tensed in a little scowl. Your territory? He parroted, shifty eyes glancing around at the trees, finally realizing what was going on. Oh.