He cants his head a fraction, listening to Robbie. It was still strange to be able to understand Man in this world, but it also helped to stoke the fire of his hatred; such a weak, patronizing tone.

At least here he could do something about it; bestowed with the strength of El-ahrairah himself, Woundwart had no compunctions about taking on as many foxes as presented themselves to him - or, in lieu of foxes, one witless human kit.

He remains still while Robbie crouches down, patiently biding his time. His muscles itched for a fight. He hungered for it.

Damn the kid stopped. Woundwart would have to cover some of the distance before attacking. He stretched out and relinquished his cover with two calculated, almost lazy hops, then addressed Robbie in a deep, gravelly voice.

"That's a pity. I would have welcomed a challenge."

And then he pounces; teeth and claws bared.