If there had been anything but truth in his words, Gabriel might have snarled at him. He could read the disbelief as well as he could read the shadow of violence that lingered in the older coyote. This was no uncommon. He knew what the dark gaze of murder looked like. Though he would no doubt be able to put down the elder man with ease, Gabriel did not work in such a fashion. For whatever else he was, he was not Haku. This he could not allow.
Gabriel sat as still as a gargoyle, his face blank, his eyes following the movement though his head did not. This too, was a tactic. Everything that made up Gabriel was built out of war. He did not envy this quality about himself. Nor did he envy what the old world had once meant, as Kesho explained it. The sable-coated Aquila replied coolly enough. “Inferni would have perished if it relied on coyote blood alone. All leaders before me left when the burden became too great.” He thought of Segodi, of Kidorah, of his own mother. He could not help but feel as though each one had betrayed the clan he now led.
“The difference between us and them is that those of us who live here chose to do so, regardless of the cost. Wolves destroyed my family. I do not consider myself one of them,” he said viciously, unable to hide the hatred in his voice.
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