It is not within me to expect him to understand. I do, however, expect him to accept that my methods may differ from his own. If we can respect one another's actions then I have no doubts we will co-exist quite well. Indeed, our end goal is the same: we simply move at separate paces. In fact, I find his personal pace quite endearing. It is a useful thing, to be so quick. After all, I am sure there will come a time when I will need to make a request of him: do it, and do it fast. When it comes, I will be thankful for his question this day. I will be thankful that he does not ponder too hard on my answers and that he remains unswayed. I have no doubts about it.

I cannot help but offer him the smallest hint of a satisfied grin at his meager response. He is good like that. He does not expect too great a response in return. I prefer such simplicity. It is only recently, after all, that I have learned to use my words more adequately. There are times, however, that I wish to retreat back into a world of only one or two syllables. Perhaps that is why I find a particular fondness for the silver male. He is all the simplicity I cannot be. He finishes what he starts simply because he wants to, whereas I feel the absolute need to see them squirm and crawl. It is a complex thing to desire their end and yet, their continuation. Whereas I must speak and probe and endlessly think of ways to move about the political and social landscape, he thinks only of ways to crawl about the shadows as if he is a part of him. He is the simplicity to my complexity. As I am the shadow to Solaris, he is my pale shadow.

"In time, perhaps we will have the chance to see just what an inflicted weakness tastes like."

I muse such a thing as I watch up at the birds. I cannot help but wonder what it is like to sink one's teeth into the shredded and re-healed flesh of an age old wound. The wounds we inflict on our prey before we devour them are too fresh to compare. Surely the muscle has a new texture. I cannot help but feel my tongue roll once more across my muzzle, tasting the cooled off crimson of the bird. Yes, perhaps in time, we will get to answer such a question.

"I have no doubts that you are my Thorn now. The title is yours to take."

I return my eyes to his now, my brow twitching in response to my curiosity - I am almost eager to see how he reacts. I do not suppose he is the type to have ever been given tangible power, at least in the eyes of the others in not only this pack but those beyond Moladion. It will be so strange to see him carry himself with a posture suited to his position upon the hierarchy. I look forward to it.

"You have a keen eye. Watch the world for me. I promise you, we can change this one."

I speak such a thing before I lean down and pick up what remains of the prey, tossing it towards him. He does not need to eat it, but it is an offering in itself. The spoils that are mine, are his too.