[His words gave him confidence. Taking the knife, he looked at the fox's eyes. He muttered something in that strange language again. It was not a prayer; it sounded more like an apology.

He cut into the animal, much like how Fenris did to the bear. His hand hovered over the belly, a moment of hesitation before he began gutting it. Occasionally, he looked to Fenris for guidance when he was not sure which part he should take out and which were edible.

Before the task would feel too overwhelming, he quickly asked:] How old were you when you first started hunting?