There is much he in unaware of. He does not realize the scope of the world so vast. He does not realize the meaning of lineage, how the rest of this vast world views him as the spawn of a dark careless wolves. He in unaware of much of this world, how they speak so fluently and have so many sounds with so many meanings. He only knows what he knows, but knowledge is an ever expanding thing for him, and this day was no different.

He does not realize that his own words may be a struggle to understand. He simply continues with what he was doing, watching the butterflies' form crumple and change with the power of his black paw. He did not feel much in the way of sadness or unhappiness towards its destruction. He felt very little, in fact, it was almost pure indifference other than his curiosity of 'what if I crushed it'. Perhaps it is simply a childish thing, something he will grow out of, or perhaps it was something lacking inside. It was distracting, watching the destruction before his eyes, and he did take a step back to look after asking his question. He did not initially look back at the other wolf as she spoke. Yes, he knew Mother was a protector, and that he must not look weak towards father. Smart was something he a bit more unsure of. He thinks he understood- but no one will ever really know.

His ears grasp on more to the meaning of Poisonous, and that is when his white and black head lifts once more to look towards the one who speaks the words. Poisonous is bad. It makes you sick. He knew that Mother did not allow him near snakes, long things they are, at least he thinks he was making the right connection. They must be bad and poisonous. His mind calculates the meaning of it all, his bright eyes of lava touched with the serpent green of his father churning with the flame of growing knowledge.

"Not poooiiisonouuuss, butterfly, but some butterfly bad, color of bright," he says in a way repeating what she said, in a bit simplified manner. He looks towards her eye, narrowing his own as he considers poisonous, and the brightness of her own eye. He forgets the butterfly, trotting right past it as he goes a bit closer to examine her eye.

"It being color, it being poisonous?" he inquires, lifting slightly onto his hind legs to get a better look before losing his balance and falling onto his dark black paws with a thud, and of course, a tail that refuses to stop wagging.