Jackdaw seemed unnerved by Zharko and his presence. Even stating that he looked like the image of his father. Zharko’s lip curled a hair. Aranck would had denied that fact tooth and nail, possibly to the death. As a runt, he had no place in his father’s presence. He was just a pound of flesh. The visual tie was something the boy had to swallow. Unlike his sister, who looked more like their mother, he would always look like a rapist murderer. His eyes narrowed to himself, a sickening curl in his gut. Half of that fateful happenstance was true. He looked again at the skull. She had deserved it, he thought. She had tried to sell Zafira the same way Aranck had tried to sell him. Worse, since one was repaying a blood price, and the other was creating it.

Red gaze looked back up at Dexter. His expression turned a little softer under the scars that masked the left side of his face. He preferred Dexter’s direct questions and clear intentions, the authority he spoke and moved with. Zafira, is her name. She- he glanced at the skull, having never learned the title of his butchered sibling, -was taking her in the direction of Glorall. Even if Zharko had been a more forthcoming creature, he had no more information than that. From the moment he had been weaned he had been taken away and abandoned. He could never have known the terrible life his sister would have lived. She said she was going to make her be a slave. His head ducked, a yearning to be by her side overpowering his small body. He had promised her he would be there for her. At the mouth of their den he said they would escape together and he would protect her in every way. But he had failed, save for in that one moment where he killed another. Zafira looks like my mother. He added softly, glancing up at Jackdaw as if to assure him not everyone took on the facade of Aranck.

A flash of hope sparked. Meeting his siblings now and making sure they were taken care of. They, unlike Zafira, would not be subject to whatever games Aranck had insisted on playing. Yes, take me to them. The pup got to his feet and hesitated, eyes narrowing again. Please. He accented awkwardly, not used to formality or deference to anyone other than the brutal commands of Blackthorne.