Aside from his nephew, no member of the D’Angelo clan lived within the borders of this land. Harlowe was interesting, if a little mouthy. The boy lacked discipline, but Lark was not surprised by this. His mother was weak and his upbringing was pathetic. He could turn that around. Just as he saw potential in King, he saw potential in his nephew. The two of them could be great, provided that they were pointed in the right direction. With Haku dead, it was now up to Larkspur to ensure the boy grew up right. His half-brother would ruin him. Conor did not have the same drive as his father.
Larkspur frowned at the expression. The boy had been making fun of him, so why was he upset that Larkspur spoke ill of him? Had the boy’s thoughts been spoke aloud, Lark would have laughed. To be ashamed of scars was strange. His own were displayed in great glory, writing out a prophecy he did not fully understand. “Lookin’ for supplies,” he answered shortly. Uncomfortable by the boy’s display, the orange eyed wolf grunted. “Yer from that dog pack south, right? Everyone dress like that?”
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