Harrowheart watches the art closely, not moving – not even breathing – as the little people draw... Him? So they know he's a worgen. And he... Ah. His first inclination was right. These are the strange little things he vaguely remembers pouncing on in the Nightmare.

He gently puts his palm over the drawing and looks between the outwardly ugly creatures. "Ewiddan," he repeats, frowning guiltily. He sets the picture down beside himself and shakes his head, then taps his temple and shakes it a little harder.

"Lon, lon," he says as he reaches out for their drawing supplies. They drew him, it's only fair he does the same for them. And, hey, drawing portraits made him at least one friendship in the past. Maybe lightning strikes twice?

When he's through with his work he turns it around and hands it over with a smile. How do you like it, little dude(ttes)?