The son of the Traitor did not much stir when another started to enter his space. Deep red eyes locked onto her with an intense curiosity that seemed to shine from the golden hoops around his pupils. He possessed his father’s deep sharpness, but lacked his calculating malice. The white female approached and he merely tilted his head to the side at her presence. So far she had posed no threat to him, which was a far better circumstance than he had experienced for the first year of his life. Alarms tripped in his mind, but not blaringly so. Soft fuzz on the back of his neck habitually raised as her head lowered and cut off his escape. A new shelter would need to be found, he thought. One would always need an escape route.

She spoke and he seemed to contemplate her words for a long time. Eyes still glued to her, watching her movements he tried to place the real reason as to why he was in here for the choice had not been his own. Stolen by his father, abandoned to strangers, and left to fend for himself he was alone save the one other soul he knew he loved. Zafira still remained in the moors. Dark tipped ears flitted back and at last he closed his eyes, fighting off the pain of loss. His ally was trapped between an uncaring mother and the fangs of a murderous father. He supposed he could be lucky considering he was still alive.

He found himself unable to answer Liquid Amber. As to why he was here, when he should have been dead, or he should have been home. He was not lost, nor was he abandoned. He simply was. Surviving, but just barely. Wolfish brows furrowed. I have no place else to go. He had nothing else to be, save a stony shadow against the rocks. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He put his head on the bones he had been chewing on. Uncaring about much he nosed at them and started to lick at the bare traces that remained before trying to chew at them with teeth still young. Everything that only instinct drove him to do so he mind could wander back into the mists.