[ He glances up at the sound of her whimper, but there’s no real concern in his eyes. The real Theon might show a touch of it by this point, simply because he knows and cares for Ammy. This Theon isn’t so weak. He is iron and salt, as any ironborn should be, and he doesn’t allow his expression to betray him.

Not until something utterly baffling happens, at least. He can’t say what leads him to turn his gaze toward the wound, and he can’t say what it is that leads him to rub the blood away, but nothing can mask his surprise when he finds no cut there in the skin. His eyebrows knit together, and he swears softly beneath his breath. ]

By the Drowned God…

[ He slides the knife into his belt and turns a somewhat suspicious gaze to the wolf, though it would be ridiculous to pin the blame on her, surely. No animal is capable of such things...but it is strange. ]

You seem proud of yourself. Find a way to speak the common tongue and then you'll truly have something to be proud of.