Deepwood Weald the dirty [m]

His blood? What a strange request. Tuvaq weighed the options for a few seconds and offered the boy a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders. "Sure thing, bub. I got a lot of blood," he agreed flippantly, turning around to face the tree again. It wasn't too very large - the two of them could certainly move it together, but he could not do it on his own. 

And that was it. No stipulations, no clarification as to why he needed the blood. Just acceptance.

Hazel eyes flicked back over to the larger wolf and he offered him a smile. "Push with me?" he asked, placing his forepaws on the coarse bark and readying himself to put his weight into it.