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Alder could not help but watch the horse closely. He rode her heavily, tension seemingly steeled in his arms and legs as he attempted to control her. Such things pained the gentle Marshal. He would have called out to her, asking what bothered her so to help the coyote stranger with his mount. But his mind was distracted, knowing that the priority needed to be allowing he and Hawthorn a safe passage from the Inferni territory and back home. And yet there was a visible flinch as he watched the uneasy pair.
Eyes turned to the speaking canine, and he realized in an instant that this was another of Gabriel's son's. He was not daft to the fact that his father had many offspring, and his favor or distaste for the rugged hybrid that sired him did not change at this male's harsh words. But, the insult to his kind was felt. His nose dipped and eyes turning sharp as if he had been physically hit by the other. He looked to him with a new gaze, more narrowed. And yet he could not protect himself from the next words.
The combination of his words, tones, and expressive face spoke much greater a volume then the syllables themselves. What lay beneath them were all for Alder to imagine, and when the mere notion of his mother was brought into the air between them he felt himself turning from a defensive stance to something more offensive. Do not speak of those you know nothing of. He said, laying the topic of his mother to rest with a hard tone that fit his deep voice much neater then the apology moments before.
Alder had felt this before, it had ended with the rage he had shown Cypress during the Aniwaya war as well as a punishment for his brother's desertion. Hawthorn understood the practically palpable energy, and snorted. The dark shire horse's chest was almost twice the width of a normal canine's, and as he stepped up beside the wolf they made a formidable wall.
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