Blacktail Deer Plateau who is the lamb and who is the knife

The steel-wrought boy was squared-off and adjacent to the pale adult, and yet when the adult spoke he did not waver - save for his tail which gave a short wag in an effort to show friendliness. Stealing was not something Anselm had ever done before but he would do it - and again, in the future - if it was necessary for his survival. The hole was sitting nearby his feet, while the stern-faced stranger was still at least one wolf-length beyond; he had some leeway. He could try to grab the rabbit and leave, since conversation seemed like a poor choice. It was clear the stranger wasn't about to let Anselm take something without payment - and the boy did not want to pay in blood.

Perhaps he could delay the inevitable. Use what skills were forced upon him by his parents to coax something out of the silver man. Diplomacy had been neither his mother nor father's strong suit, but Anselm was no fighter. He was no warrior like his brethren - a fight would be a bad idea. Is there no way to convince you," Anselm drawled, as he side-stepped to be slightly closer to the burrow; he loomed over it now. To give up a morsel of scrap? A single bite?" If his father could see him now, practically begging before this ruler. Thorsten would have denied any relation.