Snowforest Taiga broken boy

She observed the tall black man, brows furrowed—not because he had interrupted anything, but because a warrior of his stature was, in her eyes (or at least in her one good eye), a threat.

Very well. She had devoured the hare’s carcass and retrieved its head, which lay abandoned on the ground. The filthy one stepped closer to the duo, her gaze heavy with judgment. She had to climb onto a small mound of earth just to meet the tall warrior’s eyes.

Boy of yours is bones, she spat, juggling the hare’s head in her jaws as she struggled to speak properly. Take better care! she scolded, her tail raised high over her haunches, her nose nearly pressed to his, muzzle wrinkled in reprimand.

Look! She pointed sharply with her snout, nearly losing hold of the hare’s head and almost sending it straight into the face of the poor boy. The boy is like fawn wearing wolf skin! Hunters will go after him!