Deepwood Weald but need alone is not enough to set power free

“Didn’t ask if you were a mute, ‘yote. I asked if ya spoke common tongue or not.”
 
A gleam crossed into the muddy russet of his eyes. The druid lifted his crown upward and eyed the slender canine with a guarded and prying expression. Knaven was a relatively easy-going fellow, but he wasn’t one for being misconstrued or misinterpreted. In his youth he had adopted a strong sense of pride and knew his worth; sometimes he spoke in a way that confused those around him, but he wasn’t as big of a fool as he was made out to be.
 
“Yer kind speaks the wild tongue where I’m from, see…”
 
The rogue figured that providing this context might ease the other a little bit. The guarded expression of the slender figure was one that sparked a sense of frustration and superiority inside of the earthy yearling. He allowed those two emotions to wage war inside of his chest for a moment before his ears turned at the remark the coyote made – not wanting trouble.
 
An easy smile split the features of the druid.
 
“I’m not too fond o’ trouble myself, cousin.”