He watches from a distance, that strange ebony child with the long pelt and longer tail all marked in red and white- like his own personal torch in the darkness. Green eyes have heard the battle cries since they have begun and for the duration of the battle that raged upon the boarders the tall, lanky male had watched from the far ridge, watching the wolves of white and black fling themselves about like dancers, head twisting and turning and tilting in curiosity as he does. If he understands what they are doing he offers no indication, he simply watches, as if fixated upon this singular thing, ears pricked forward and jaws parted so that he might taste the scents that linger upon the air. It is a short lived thing, brutal and violent, even from the distance at which he sits- the dark wolf whom he had known near all his life eventually chasing away the white creature back into the darkness. Perhaps it does not matter to Lonhro all so much, the births of Gunsynd and Nevermore had….displaced him somewhat, his dislike of that still well maintained, the usurper surely offering him nothing worse were she to rise in place and as such, regardless of the outcome, Lonhro would have stayed. Because the other desires it of him. The Others. Yes. The ones he watches for, observes for and listens for- he will tell them, yes, clever Lonhro will tell them what he has seen tonight- but not now, no, later. His rain drenched form lifts itself at last to shake, flinging the water from his thick, long pelt as he hurries towards the growing gathering with a boyish grin in place and white teeth gleaming in the dark.

He is a strange creature to be sure, many believe him utterly mad, his words poor, his speech broken and his mannerisms strange and yet there is cunning in the boy to be sure, how much of his grin is sincere remains to be seen- though for now he is drawn to his mother alone- seeking Flare as his tall, gangly form approaches. Those black ears lay backwards in respect for his mother as he approaches head lowered and tail waved in representation of the natural order of things, an order he understands truly well as he places his head beneath Flare’s own. His jaws part, licking at her own submissively and in a bid for her attention as he presses agianst her, young still yet rapidly outgrowing her already as a whine of sorts rumbles within his throat- a sound of affection offered for Flare alone- the boy forever close to his Mother. He would be closer still, surely, if he had not been driven from the den by Tick Tock and her newest children. A point he remains sore over though he offers no such thing tonight, shifting at last to stand beside Mother. That is, until Gunsynd is spotted resting at her other side, emerald eyes narrowing with displeasure. Flare is his Mother alone, not for sharing, the boy child younger then himself and as such out of place and out of order as his teeth bare suddenly in warning.

Those white ivories gleam in the glow of the moon as the black curtain of his lip lifts upwards, teeth snapped suddenly at the immature male, sending him scampering aside with his own baby heckles lifted as Lonhro’s fur bristles higher and he moves to occupy the space Gunsynd had held. He has not acted wrongly, not acted incorrectly- the boy may be of higher birth yet he is younger still- beneath him until the day he can prove otherwise and as such Lonhro has taken the seat of his choosing beside Flare now. Unwilling to share his Mothers attention. Perhaps he is as his Father in that regard, the females within his possession entirely that- his. The other side of Flare reserved for Brother alone. Full Brother Singe. Not Gunsynd.