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 "Hellooo~? Connnnstannnce?" The young warrior trotted over to where the empty dens were, swearing that the old woman had claimed one of them. Her voice was somewhat muffled, carrying a dead rabbit from the cache to deliver to her. And it might have been a little bit of a bribe to ask her endless questions. Either way, here she was. 

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 She was awake, but only just. The voice was a fly, buzzing closer, floating through the air with all the optimism and eagerness of youth she no longer had.

 The child did not come empty handed, and the old woman nodded her head, accepting the rabbit and her company.

 “Did you catch this yourself, Sylvi?”

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 Finally, the old woman unveiled herself. Quick and seemingly kind, she took the bait. Sylvi's mouth widened in a grin, trotting herself over, close enough to seem interested but not completely in awe of the other — like she wanted to be. "No. No, not this one." She says, never having hunted in her life. "But I did bring it for you. From the cach... catches.." The right word evades her, but she brushes past it, recovering quickly. "In return for some answers." She stated, plopping down a few feet in front of the older woman with a glint of cleverness swirling in her olive eyes. 

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 “I see.” Constance replied, her stomach giving a raucous gurgle of expectation as she eyed the rabbit laid at her feet.

 The old woman made no move to take it.

 “I will answer your questions when you bring me something you caught on your own.” It could be a bug for all she cared, so long as the pup tried.

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 Sylvi waited for her to take it, and yet, that time never came. The young girl quirked an eyebrow up at Constance's reluctance. Short-lived, to say the least, as the news was broken to her. Her face twisted momentarily before glancing around them. "Oh. Okay. Hm." The short words accompanied by tufts of air coming from her lips, grunting softly as she pulled herself up from her seat. 

 Listen, maybe she hadn't hunted before, but she had caught her siblings, and wrestled with them. How different could this be? Sylvi waited for a few moments before noticing a squirrel huddling around a spot in the ground, digging at it with something in its mouth. She lowered herself to the ground, her butt in the air, wiggling it before charging at full speed at the creature. 

 Sylvi lacked poise, to put it simply. No waiting for the right moment, just full on running at her target. That scurried up a tree quicker than she could make half the grounds towards it. Her noise wrinkled, feeling an irritation rise in her hackles. 

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 “Use every defeat as a lesson. It isn’t a failure if you take something away from it.”

 Constance watched the girl with eyes that glittered with an energy that belied a woman who was not finished yet. She still had things to do.

 Close by, she noticed a moth trying very hard to be a leaf. “Sylvi. Try this.” Nudging her front paw forward, she disturbed the dead bit of foliage, sending the moth fluttering aloft in a shallow zig-zag.

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 The small guardian's ears perked upwards, tilting backwards so she could hear Constance's wisdom. She lifted her head in pursuit and looked over at the older lady. 

 'It isn't a failure if you take something away from it.' A firm look set on Sylvi's face, a new look of determination as she nodded, as if being given orders. It wasn't long before Constance pointed something out, a moth. For a second, she feels her gut twist — why did she need to start with something as small as a moth? It wasn't like either of them could eat it. But she'd led the youth this far, and the lady's sagacity had already priorly had set her at ease.

  She wasn't happy about it, but she fell into a crouch anyway, watching in the air as it zig-zagged. There was a low rumble in the back of her throat as she hiked her rump in the air, doing another wiggle as she crawled forward, one elbow after another, until she got close enough to jump upwards and catch the unsuspecting thing in her mouth. "Hey I—" In the midst of her speaking, she inhaled a little too much and felt the moth's death wings threatening to choke her, and she spat it out, sticking her tongue out. "Gross." She spat, her nose wrinkling up in irritation. 

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 The pup caught her quarry, and the old woman watched the moth’s frantic flutters, covering the whelp’s tongue with dusty scales.

 She didn’t smile, but her eyes sparked, glittering with amusement. “Good.”

 Constance nosed the hare, pushing it towards Sylvi. “Take a bite, wash the taste out.” But she caught it, and that’s what mattered.

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 Pride tickled up the back of Sylvi's spine, making her shift so her posture was straight. Underneath the old woman's words, she allowed a small smile, even through her disgust. Even though she was a stranger — someone not born to Northfall, a soft spot grew in place of the weariness that she first felt for her. 

 The hare she'd brought was offered up, Constance telling her to take a bite. As much as she wanted to, she upturned her nose and shook her head. "I brought that for you. Not for me." She said, as if explaining some complicated plan. Behind the words, there was a sense of lurking protection. She wouldn't eat until the other had. And that went for mostly anyone, except for her siblings (in less serious moderation.) If she didn't shove down the food she could put her maw on, it'd be gone before she had a second thought. 

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