Cricket Creek Bog raises a number to a power of a specified number.

Her question made him smile. There was no malice or mockery in the jest, which put the young wolf at ease. He imagined that any wolf would've looked at his antics and think he was a grown man, playing games with imaginary friends. It was something another might've easily mocked, but Niamh was kind enough to refrain.  "Of course," Fig replied promptly, "I wouldn't want to be cruel." 

She hadn't asked, yet he felt compelled to explain himself. Even if she wasn't going to make fun of him for playing make-believe, he still wanted her to know that wasn't the case. "I come out here sometimes to.. train," Fig explained, his hesitant words making his slight embarrassment obvious, "Y'know... strength and stamina... Thrashing heavy objects helps. So does the water's resistance. It's... dumb..." He was disapppointed to find that explaining himself really didn't ease his embarrassment at all. It actually made him feel even dumber, though he tried to shrug as though he wasn't bothered. Poor kid.