A mob marches to their feet

The grey scale male continued to rest upon the ground, his tail flicking against the ground as he grumbled to himself. Imonde was pretty sure he was getting old, that meant he could eventually settle down, have pups, not want to kill them, and continue about his short life. But soon the whale was speaking again, and Imonde turned is head toward him, confusion once again for the seventh time today flashed across his features as the whale read his mind.

"We kn-ew you wh-e-re a wh-al-e," the creature exclaimed, rising to his paws as he rests his ears down against his head, an amused rumble coming from his throat as he points a paw casually at Sverige. Yes, Sverige could not hold back his secret any longer, Imonde would have him admit to being a whale or beat it out of him! He would not be tricked by a whale, whale's where smart, but they weren't strong according to the elder.

"We do not," he would finally answer the question, his excitement dimming for a moment as he watches the whale expectantly.
"Speech"
'thoughts'