Wild Berry Meadow Tell everybody I'm on my way

He scoffed, as well.

"You’d do well to eat what’s in front of you," he replied evenly, "and not complain." Her ears swiveled, her restless energy palpable, and he could almost feel her frustration. The itching ache for action. But Stark wasn’t moved by impulse. He was deliberate, methodical, and he expected the same from her, even if it meant breaking some of her bad habits.

Turning his head toward her, he leaned slightly closer, his voice dipping lower, almost like a growl.

"If we hunt now, you waste energy chasing shadows. There is nothing here. Eat, or don’t. But if you collapse, I will not drag your corpse up those mountains." He looked upon her, not with ill will, but with something just as equally harsh. The impatient, intolerant glare of a ruler.

That was what he was. It was what he'd always be.

The soft spot he was developing for the annoying burr in his fur that she was didn't change that. As if willing to impart her some encouragement, his head moved suddenly from hers and towards one of the many ripe bushes. Teeth parting, plucking several berries from their stem and indulging in them with little complaint.