The Heartwood Getting heavy mixing glitter thighs

It spoke, having Monty turn around, giving a blank stare to the cat. Like a curious child, the beast tilted it's head left and right, not breaking away in a stare. It spoke like the wolves. A curious one.

Words were hard to muster for the gourmey, but they vaguely knew some. Hearing and listening was one thing, but saying it was a hard topic to touch. They preferred to use their mouth to simply raid and eat, to taste and devour.. Speaking, seemed useless.

"You," 

"attack?"

Or do.. They attack the cat?