Because this isn't one you can explain easily. [That comes out a bit snappish, but as with any hard truth, Bigby doesn't spare feelings when there are more important things at stake.] If you could trust me this far, you can trust me a little longer.
[—But then Tsume says something that freezes all of Bigby's frustration, and his expression shifts into one of surprised curiosity. The Forest of Death. Not what he had in mind at all, but he's heard the Black Forest being called similar things before, he thinks. Of course he's a major reason why, but not the only one. You venture deep enough inside any place you aren't welcome in and you'll find more than enough things inside that not only want you gone but want to pick and poke and study you for fun and personal interest, and that not even accounting the ones that are hungry. You don't enter someone's home unannounced. You especially don't enter without bringing dinner. That's the way of the forest.
Bigby watches the noticeable shift in Tsume's posture, the shaking that could read as an uneasy tremble just as much as a tic, and wonders how much the two of them have in common and if it's enough to allow some leeway for the one important, very vital thing they might not share.]
Long time ago, I used to live in the Black Forest. Wolves like you weren't rare. Actually, most of the animals who lived there were like you. [This is the only way he can broach the subject in as honest a way without sacrificing the most important parts of its secrecy. If Tsume is a Fable who just doesn't remember he is, maybe this will be enough to jog his memory. If he isn't, he's at least getting more of the story.] Where I live now, it's not like that anymore. Animals can't talk.
[He looks down at Tsume, expression serious and searching.]
no subject
[—But then Tsume says something that freezes all of Bigby's frustration, and his expression shifts into one of surprised curiosity. The Forest of Death. Not what he had in mind at all, but he's heard the Black Forest being called similar things before, he thinks. Of course he's a major reason why, but not the only one. You venture deep enough inside any place you aren't welcome in and you'll find more than enough things inside that not only want you gone but want to pick and poke and study you for fun and personal interest, and that not even accounting the ones that are hungry. You don't enter someone's home unannounced. You especially don't enter without bringing dinner. That's the way of the forest.
Bigby watches the noticeable shift in Tsume's posture, the shaking that could read as an uneasy tremble just as much as a tic, and wonders how much the two of them have in common and if it's enough to allow some leeway for the one important, very vital thing they might not share.]
Long time ago, I used to live in the Black Forest. Wolves like you weren't rare. Actually, most of the animals who lived there were like you. [This is the only way he can broach the subject in as honest a way without sacrificing the most important parts of its secrecy. If Tsume is a Fable who just doesn't remember he is, maybe this will be enough to jog his memory. If he isn't, he's at least getting more of the story.] Where I live now, it's not like that anymore. Animals can't talk.
[He looks down at Tsume, expression serious and searching.]
Do you remember anything about where you're from?