The Heartwood to pick the ship up, leave it clean

Lucca regarded him warily, off-put by the lack spark in his yellow eyes, as if something was missing. He wasn't a massive man and, given a few more months, Lucca would have overtaken him in size. For now, however, he was an untrained and inexperienced mess of gangly limbs and too big paws. He took a small step back as the stranger introduced himself, a single word that caused the boy's ears to fall flat on either side of his head. He opened his mouth to speak once more.

But the man struck suddenly and without warning, dashing forward and slamming against his chest. The Redhawk child barely managed to let out a word of protest before he was sent tumbling through the snow. He rolled thrice before coming to a stop, gasping for breath as he struggled to get air back into his lungs. "Wai—!" he began, panic clear even in his breathless voice, but it was too late. The wraith descended upon his scrabbling form, and suddenly all Lucca could feel was white hot pain erupt from his muzzle.