Blackfeather Woods your wallet is on a permanent diet

The other man parroted the word back at him, and his ear gave a flicker, catching the sound he made after that and connecting to the idea it was a name; but what he had said was not a name, and the miscommunication made Drusk rumble another low note.

He stole another glance, this time watching as Gavrel grabbed at his own wrist, and then motioned towards Drusk, who flinched his eyes away quickly; when nothing came of that but another sound, his curiosity refocused his attention to the exchange.

The man's interest was in his wound. Drusk shifted his weight and tucked his tail closer to himself, but he answered with the only words he knew. Ver chiori. He knew there was a disconnect here, his words were not the same as Gavrel's. Ver, he motioned to himself with a chin-tuck, and to Gavrel, Ver.

He took a moment to pause, think, and try again: Ver gende, he flashed his teeth as light illuminated the forest, and gave him a menacing look; the brightness of his fangs in that moment could've been misconstrued as a threat but he motioned to his wound and gnashed his teeth, and the shadow cast across his back gave the suggestion of a bite.

Gende. He did it again, the show of biting.

Then he licked his lips, hiding away the teeth again, averting his eyes a bit to show he did not mean the display as insult to the man — in case that hadn't been clear before.