She could try and stay calm, but he could see her fur rise and read her tone well enough. The black and white wolf bared his teeth. She had no idea who he was. The whispering voice spoke again, spoke and told him everything that he needed to know. No wonder her son was such an impudent brat. “I live here,” he challenged, muscles growing taunt. His horse, sensing this, snorted and stamped one foreleg in an agitated manner.
“And I ain’t got no patience for yer bad blood t’be ruinin’ anything.” A vague threat. He had no need to kill his own kin, though many would not have hesitated to do the same to him. Larkspur’s purpose was higher—he had been saved, he had been chosen, he heard the voice of Tak and had seen his eye through the ini. The darkness had touched him, but not taken him. This alone made him better than her.
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