Zalen listened in silence as she told him in detail what happened in her pack. So a dictator had taken over, removed the piece, installed a police force and before the pack members could even organize it was too late. Zalen’s brow furrowed, a growl threatened in his chest. Once again he had that feeling of enraging helplessness, of self-loathing and anger towards his mother for not telling him of his heritage.
If he had a choice, if he had only known, he surely would be leading a pack now, maybe even the Silent Dawn pack, the one founded by his great grandmother. Then, for a moment, he was angry at her too, angry for coming to him like a ghost out of a nightmare and telling him of things he would have never known otherwise.
He buried these feelings for later contemplation as the two of them entered the small clearing that held his den. The small cave entrance looked so cozy and he did not hesitate to shake himself down, head to toe before pushing aside the vines hanging over the low entrance, he held them open for her, Come inside, we’ll talk more. He smiled, his feelings of anger beginning to ebb away.
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