Sun Mote Copse burn the world that you call civilized

Fig listened to the tale, feeling his sympathies stir again. There had been something hesitant in the word caretaker that suggested to him that it hadn't been a caretaker at all that had died. Or if it had been, there was more meaning behind the word than it suggested. He wondered if Wraen had picked up on it, but he continued to stay quiet. He'd clearly proven to himself that while he was good at preventing strangers from entering his territory, he had no idea how to actually talk to them. He observed Wraen in order to learn, and he wasn't going to interrupt his lesson.

He couldn't tell what she thought of him, but he thought he might've seen her attitude in the lack of it. He knew Wraen to be warm, funny and welcoming. The fact that she wasn't now said something to him, though it was too soon to tell if that was necessarily a negative. For his own part, Fig felt inclined to give the other yearling a chance, but he was torn over it still as he in no way wanted him anywhere near his young siblings. He frowned thoughtfully.