they lash out with ferocious force

Viðarr takes a moment to process the range of emotion from this stranger-- displeased, annoyed. The shadow is quick to write off his reaction on hunger, though. When he's hungry, he's cranky-- why would this stranger not be the same. It doesn't occur to him that he's been rude, though Viðarr tends to have a different grasp on social graces. That's his older sister's domain, he doesn't need to worry... usually. Viðarr was relaxed as he took in the strange man. Paranoid, but it's not abnormal for someone that's been on their own.

"You are fishing, but don't seem to like it." Viðarr took his question literally, watching him with a tilt to his head. It was a soft answer, his tail twitching at his haunches. He smiled. It wasn't a threatening smile, and there's no malice. The shadow couldn't help it, couldn't help the way he reacted. If he wanted to fight, he could. Still, it seemed that he was hungry. "The deer won't die to one, but will easily to two." Those weren't quite the words that Viðarr wanted, but it was close enough. The offer is simple, gentle. No malice, no ulterior motives-- but deer was much tastier than most of the things that either of them could catch alone.

"Viðarr"