Dahozhoni Meadow he was living on borrowed time

His speech was met with a blank stare. Not even a nod to acknowledge that she'd even heard him. He would've thought she was being plain rude had he not been well accustomed to different languages from his time with the clan. Slowly, the gears turned in his head.

The snarl does little to scare him; simply acting as a reminder that getting through to her by the common tongue was not going to work out. He considered leaving her, but some semblance of duty tugged at him to help her. After all, she seemed awfully unaccustomed to the desert; Butterfly feared the worst should he let her out of his sight.

At the indignant tilt of her head, the boy rises to his paws and bares his teeth once at her, posture remaining gentle. He meant not to frighten her, only to sternly put her in her place as he melts into the scrub, glancing back once as if to implore her to follow.