It didn’t take long before Molodian recognized him again.

However, he didn’t recognize her. The voice rises from the bracken, sweet and full of innocence. His charcoal eyes snap to her, his lips twitching upwards to once more reveal one fang. Blackthorne had left this place wrecked – it was both his birthplace and his legacy. It was ordained that he would return. One always returned to their roots, didn’t they? His roots just tended to snuff out those around him.

Nyteshade had already slipped off from his side, exploring, learning, having finally fallen into a rhythm with Blackthorne. Blackthorne had never known such a thing with his own father, Underidge, and never would. He was born screaming, daring the world, and he never could allow another to surpass him.

Auri was nothing to fear. She was tiny, dwarfed by his 36 inches and he outweighed her by a hundred pounds. For a moment his brows furrow, thinking her a pup, but her scent is mature. ”What a strange bird you are, to have a brother so,” he replies, his silky voice almost mocking. Not quite though. She was fascinating, practically gleaming with her pure soul. His own writhed in darkness. ”Perhaps you were the last hatchling then? You are so… small,” he adds, raising a brow, grin widening to flash more teeth, amusement there. ”And new. I have never met you before and you don’t smell of these packs. Well, raven-bird, what is your name?”

It is then, as the question falls from his lips, he hears the movements of another. Ears flick in the direction, silver snout following as he sniffs. Zephyr slinks out, his scarred muzzle recognizable. After all, Blackthorne had scarred many and he would know his own marks. A self-satisfied smirk curls his lips, amusement much sharper now, limned with malice. ”So I have, Zephyr. If they’ve not forgotten me, then I’ve never really left, have I?”

Was Zephyr back to pledge his allegiance once more? He couldn’t tell, the male’s rather bland statement not giving way to much intention. His eyes flicked between the pale creatures before him: scarred, once filled with hate and violence, still? And Auri, small, a light in the bright darkness. He moves then, in his sleek fashion, sauntering like a cat so that he is between the pair. Pacing, turning around, watching them, waiting.

He did not expect his return to be uneventful – hopefully they would not disappoint.