Fox's Glade you look so cool

Rather than holding back the answer, as some chose to do, she revealed her initial intentions with little prompting. Had he not killed it, then she would have acted with the desire to make it into her meal; he wasn’t as good at telling truth from fiction as his father, but he understood enough to decide that she was being honest. Still, he was curious about something. “How about”—he leaned down and picked up the fox, then spoke around it—“if it’s given to you?” Jerking his head, he tossed the carcass in her direction, tongue gliding over his muzzle thereafter. Would she accept it, he wondered, eager to see her reaction. Would she trust the offer, or refuse his gift and cast it back in his direction? As he stood there, he couldn’t help but doubt her ability to trust him; if the roles between the pair had been swapped, he wouldn’t have trusted her in even the slightest.

“Tell you what,” he began, motioning towards the old tod. “You tell me your name, and I’ll let you have that. I won’t take it back or anything.” Truthfully, he’d considered lunging in the event that she’d begin dining on the beast just as he had but, ultimately, decided to resist the urge. After all, what was there to gain from doing that? For the time being, it seemed more beneficial to be as civil as he was capable of being.

Despite the offer so generously made, a name was not given. Instead, the woman took her leave, an act that Xan simply shrugged off; it did not matter to him, just meant that the meal was his to keep. Collecting the carcass, he turned opposite the direction that she had gone in, beginning the return home.