irritation swims in his gut, calcifying the longer the fool boy chooses to ramble. of all the half-witted, empty-headed lunatics to run into— he just had to find the one with no information to offer.

even still, he remains stone-faced. after a moment he grunts again, gesturing with his head for the boy to move along. if he cannot say just where envy is, then asvardr will travel to the heart— to the encampment where the blood-drinkers make their home. and he will go as a pet, if he must— though he now doubts this one has half the mind to demand such a thing.

a blank, drug-induced stare meets him next, and asvardr exhales sharply through his nose. he gives the boy a nudge with his muzzle and chuffs, frustration evident in the ridge of dark fur along his spine.

but how to make him see?

persistence will have to do. he bumps the boy's flank and grunts, tossing his head.

move. move and i will follow.