Temper

Temper stepped in, kind. "See what happened? The idea wasn't wrong — dogs chasing cats is a real, common thing. The word was wrong. You said always, and always means zero exceptions ever — so a single dozing dog knocks it flat. Try tempering it: dogs OFTEN chase cats. Now it's still true, it still makes your point — and that one sleepy dog can't topple it, because often already leaves room for exceptions. Match the size of your claim to the size of your evidence. An honest 'usually' stands where a proud 'always' falls."

The rabbit tried it. "Dogs... often chase cats." It held. Nobody could knock it over.

As a young badger, Temper had once announced, grandly and to a whole crowd, that "the library is NEVER open on rest-days." Temper was so sure. And a small voice pointed out that the library had, in fact, been open last rest-day, for the seed-swap. One exception. And because Temper had said never — the biggest, most breakable word there is — the entire proud claim shattered, and worse, everything else Temper said that day got doubted too, because never had been so easily broken.

Standing there, cheeks hot, Temper felt the sting of it — not the sting of being wrong about libraries, but of having over-claimed, of having stretched a mostly-true thing into an all-the-way claim it couldn't support, and paying for the extra reach with the whole argument. The bigger the word, the easier it breaks, Temper realized. Always and never are made of glass. From then on, Temper learned to weigh a claim's size as carefully as its truth — to say exactly as much as the evidence held up, and not one word more.

Temper set a claim on one scale and a pile of evidence on the other. "A qualifier is the word that sizes a claim to fit its evidence — always, usually, often, sometimes, rarely, never. Strong evidence earns a strong word. Thin evidence earns a careful one. Say always and you promise zero exceptions; say usually and you've already made peace with a few. It's not about sounding unsure. It's about being exactly as sure as you've earned the right to be — no bigger, no smaller."

Logos weighed the honesty of it and nodded. "You are appointed."

In Temper's workshop, a young stoat scoffed, arms folded.

"Temper, all these 'usually's and 'often's sound so weak and wishy-washy. When I argue, I want to sound strong and sure! Doesn't hedging just make me look like I don't believe my own point?"