I was perplexed at first. Her tension seemed unusual and yet, now it seems to make more sense. I do not pretend to be able to empathise with her situation, for there is no comparison possible for me and yet, I at least attempt to imagine the immensity of such an event. It has seemingly left something within her changed and that something seems to extend beyond the forced responsibility of a child. It is strange though, I think, that she does not respond with venom and vehement unkindness to the perpetrator. I suppose I should accept her emotions in regards to it, however. It is, after all, not about my own.

I notice her stillness but I do not linger on its strangeness. Rather, I watch her face keenly for some indication of where its source lies. I seek out what thoughts she may be having and yet, there is seemingly something too engrossing for me to understand. However, she breaks the motionless suddenly, lurching forward with a broad stride. Instinctively, my hackles flare momentarily as my breath catches, my body stiffening in preparation for an assault that will never come. Closeness is not something I am accustomed to and often, I am inclined to flay those that seek to touch me. However, I make a brief exception for her as I listen tos her words as they seep out. My eyes roam momentarily towards the den but otherwise, I fixate them forward unwaveringly. I speak just as quietly, my muzzle already close to her ear and yet, I do not know what answer she seeks. I can only tell her the truth. "No," I state simply, my voice flat and unphased by the heaviness of the topic. Her voice might sound strained and yet, I will not lie to her about this.

She seeks to retreat, an action that allows my muscles to relax as I step back tentatively. I do not wish for her to be offended by my actions but I make no effort to restrain my response; after all, it is who I am. I do not have too long to ponder on the momentary discomfort however, for she begins to speak once more. My ears flicker towards her, my face passive as she speaks. I hear her plead and yet, I stare back with the sole intention of being honest. Have I thought about it? I have aided in its execution. I dream, I have desired, I have reveled in the taste of stray flesh. I stare back into her, taking a moment to myself before I speak once more. "It is only a problem when you cannot control it," I state it earnestly, "there are parts of ourselves we ought to keep quiet." She will surely understand the implication behind the words. I will not state the fact openly, after all, for she is still the second in command of a pack I am not allied to. Information is power and I am not prepared to relinquish mine here entirely.

I pause for a moment before I relax entirely, lazily glancing about once more as I speak again, more casually now. I am not sure this is the atmosphere she desires and yet, I have no intention to make this out as an issue. It is not, after all. It simply is. "If you desire the taste, then find a way," I muse, glancing momentarily down at my own limbs and chest as I consider the plausability of offering her a taste. It would quickly absolve the issue if it is, indeed, simply dreams. However, I continue once more, my voice still quiet. "And if you seek to kill, then find a justified way. Packs and loners execute one another all the time. Simply find a way to make the majority desire the same thing and then take the opportunity."