Northstar Vale Apprendre à Aimer

Her response seemed to indicate little patience; was she so preoccupied with the kit that she would not also attend to her packmates? He pulled back lightly, allowing the shadow to slip off the end of his muzzle and to the ground again. He opened his mouth to form some excuse, when he heard her beckon.

Viens ici- 

Appeased, he lowered his head and stepped into the den.

mon petit renard. 

He froze. She spoke to the fox- in French nonetheless- in a manner that one might use when speaking to a child. She did not seem to expect for her packmates to learn her mother tongue, but the fox kit seemed to be an exception. It proved one point, that was for certain- that the fox kit was hers.

He didn’t come any closer, lest she be truly protective and ward him off. He uttered a guilty laugh. Apologies; I t’ought you be talkin’ to me. He said. I can go, if you be busy- and then he spotted the kestrel feathers on the den’s floor, and the plucked carcass. 

These weren’t scraps. This was a meal.

He decided to overlook it. 

If you be not usin’ de feat’ers…I would take some. 

Unless, of course, they were to become toys for her favourite new fixation.