She enticed the winged creature to make another sound, and Sven's gaze couldn't help but dart to it, soaking it in with rampant curiosity. He had seen plenty of birds before, knew in general what they were though had yet to be taught their differing names, but never had one been presented to him so closely and so very nearly at his disposal. It became more and more tempting to the boy, urged on by his instincts, to momentarily abandon his treasured toy so that he may investigate this strange creature, but he resisted. It was @Morganna 's bodily motion that distracted him once more, pulling his pale gaze up to her face. She was so casual, so confident, as though she belonged here despite to her perceived novelty to his life. He couldn't decide if he liked it or not, for he very much felt that was did not belong here. She was a guest, but she also reminded him greatly of his father, inching her closer to his favor.

His still being on the fence about her presence was clear upon his tiny face, and as her gaze wandered he gave his pinecone a few licks and nibbles, though his gaze never left her dial. When she spoke again, he had to consider whether to answer her at all. What business was it of her's where his parents were? Did she even know them? The boy was reminded suddenly of Greer, and he had to wonder... was this another of his father's relatives? Was that why she seemed so relaxed, so welcomed when Sven hadn't asked her to join him?

"Ya gotta tell me who you are first," he decided aloud. "You an Archer?"

Morganna. That was indeed a name that was roughly familiar to the boy, a faceless figure that had been spoken of fondly by his father, praised as the Queen of the mauka pack herself had been. The boy's suspicions fell away as an easy grin overtook his maw, tongue lolling in the heat as his tail thumped the ground. Entirely his disposition changed, though still his forelimbs remained securely wrapped around the pinecone. Sometimes, even Skoll tried taking it from him, and so he had learned that his toy was only safe around Piety and no one else.

The bird had continued to be ignored in light of the information, but as her words dissipated from the air and the small creature chirruped pitifully, Sven's eyes were drawn to it once more. He licked his black lips before sealing his jaws back together, a concentrated and wanting look sweeping over his features. As instinct dictated, he wanted to play with this lively new toy instead, but still could not bring himself to abandon his pinecone. A whine struggled to make it out of his throat before he finally decided, turning his eyes back up to his aunt.

"Mom went to get lunch, and dad is out workin'," he told her to complete their deal, before his gaze narrowed; clearly what was to be said next was very serious business. "Don't touch my cone okay? It's mine."

Sven's features emptied to hold nothing but awe as the woman revealed that it was she who had bestowed upon him his absolute favorite toy. As she mentioned the direction, his pale eyes followed, slowly scaling the mountainside. All the way there? his imaginative mind thought, picturing the reddish black aunt of his climbing to the very tip top of those snowy peaks to pluck the pine cone from its pedestal atop them. Immediately he gained even more respect for the woman, the affection earned not from anything shown to him by her but rather all the connections she already held to all of his most treasured things.

She offered to get him a new one then, and his gaze returned to her as he hugged the chew toy to him for the final time.

"Dun' wan' a new one," he affirmed. His father often seemed disgusted by how tattered the thing was, and his mother herself had offered to him a time or two to replace it with a newer model, but Sven personally did not care how bare or slobbery the thing became. That it was different helped to keep his interest, and anyways, it meant something to the only child.

At last, though, he felt comfortable to leave it alone unguarded in @Morganna's presence, and the boy stood to step over it and draw closer to the dying prisoner chirping between them at his aunt's prompting. His gaze fell upon it with transfixion, and he lowered himself steadily to the ground with a slow waggling of his rear as he prepared to pounce upon the prey. Tentatively, he reached a paw out and batted at it, eliciting sound and distressed movement from the creature. He vividly recalled the mice brought to him by @Skoll, and all the ways he had played, expressing his power over them with glee. It would be the same here, though the tiny beastie's wings were especially curious to him.