Slowly, with the steadiness of rest, his sides rose and fell as immense lungs were filled and emptied with each breath of air. It was on an intake a breath that his nostrils flared and his ears twitched with semi-consciousness, recognizing a scent that permeated the air. But he did not rouse himself, did not even open an eye as the sound of her paw-falls drew ever closer. He was well aware of her presence, but in his satiated state he wanted nothing more than to rest. At long last a low growl filled his ears as she came within closer proximity of him. A single, vibrant green and teal eye opened to peer up at her as she approached. A rush of air swept over him face as she snapped at his muzzle, but his only response was for the bridge of his muzzle to wrinkle and his blood stained teeth to become exposed as he pulled back his lips. He was meat drunk and for once uninterested in sparring with the shewolf, not caring enough to even try to drive her away. Even as she lowered her bodice next to him, invading the space he had claimed for himself, he did not react. His head remained upon his paws, the single eye falling closed once more though he did not resume his slumber. For whatever reason, he accepted her closeness this day, perhaps the fullness of his belly assuaging his usually temperamental tendencies.

Once more she snapped at him, and a low throaty growl built up quietly within him. It was a warning, not to press her luck, but when she spoke his eyes opened once more and he looked towards her. He understood what she said, knew that a brood had been created from their copulation. But though he had searched for them in their youngest days at the beginning of the spring prior - his intentions unclear - he had not found them. Enya had done well to keep the children safe, for if he had tested them in their most feeble of days he may well have been dissatisfied and tried to consume their flesh to rejoin them with his own body.

It was only the sound of another wolf's approach that finally made Reaver lift his head, glancing over Enya's to see the young male who so brazenly invaded their space. His venomous eyes narrowed, locking onto the similar patterning of his fur, though his coloration was clearly taken from Enya. When the boy sat down before them, Reaver remained as he was, though his hackles prickled with distaste. Ripper. Sire though he might be, he was certainly no father figure. His ears flicked, eyes looking the young male over. He was large, well built, and Reaver began to size him up as an opponent - for that was most predominantly what he registered his son as. It was then that a second youngwolf approached, a female who bore far more black on her body than her brother. Crimson lined her eyes and snout, and her first action upon arrival brought the thrum of a snarl back into Reaver's throat. The way she snapped at her brother's face brought him to his feet - not out of protective instinct, but mere interest in the two whelps who had come before him for judgment.

His immense form surged forward, closing the distance between them in only a couple of strides. He towered over them both, and even though he felt no threat from either child instinct bade him tuck his chin down to protect his throat. Being as tall as he was, it was something he had learned early in life - to keep his vitals sheltered no matter what situation you were in. His lips peeled back fully as a roar of a snarl erupted from his maw. Ears plastered back against his skull, and he snapped at each pup in turn. A large paw swiped at the girl, the force behind his strike enough to knock an adult off their feet if he made contact. Almost in the same moment he struck out with his head to bowl over the boy. He would see them submit, whether they wanted to or not, and he would decide then if they were something he would claim as his own.