Sun Mote Copse burn the world that you call civilized

He did not think he had done anything wrong. She had asked questions and he had answered—that's how all of this worked, right? Did she not like his answers? Was there something wrong with being able to fend for oneself, or was his state-the-obvious approach an irritant to her? Either way, Tuvak found her resistance to him grating on the ears, and felt immediately alienated with the way she condescendingly spoke to him. 

The boy was hot under the collar and stubborn too, which was a bad combination. He wasn't sure if he should continue speaking or if he should clam up, and since she hadn't asked any further questions for him to answer, he remained silent and fuming. Tuvak felt the other boy's eyes on him and he didn't like that either, he didn't like having to beg for something as simple as a meal and a place to sleep, but it was necessary. He didn't want to starve, as he'd stated; the rest was his reiteration of the truth, and somehow it was offensive.

He took a breath. Maybe it would be better if he left this entire situation behind? They clearly did not want him. He wasn't good enough, or maybe his story sounded too far-fetched. The image of Kazimir being pulverized by spidering hooves made him flinch and look at the dirt—pensive for a long moment. Then, gradually, he began to speak again: I want to join a pack so that I can survive. That's what they're for. His voice was level this time. I can hunt for myself but it would be easier with backup.

My — my parents wanted me to be a warrior, so that's how they raised me until I was separated from the pack. What more did they need? The woman had only asked the one question. He kept explaining, hoping some part would click and help her make her decision; evidently that meant sharing things he'd rather not think about. My caretaker, a woman named Kazimir, tried to bring me home. The earthquakes spooked the herd living near the claim, and she died in the stampede. I... I ran, and I kept running, but I don't... I don't want to do that anymore. I can't go home because I don't know where home is, so I have to start over.

As Tuvak fell silent finally, the hollow expression on his face seemed to cement itself. He hated having to explain all of this, sharing things with strangers that had no right to know these painful details; all just to prove what? That he was worthy to live among them? He hated having to grovel and prove himself, but these were the hoops that he had to jump through, and he just had to bite the bullet and get it over with.