They had become each other’s opposites, and this perhaps why they were so drawn to one another. In his sister was the weakness and the terror he had shaken from his mind in place of anger. One defeat had turned him into a boy that not only liked but craved battle, and he would never be complete without such a thing. Perhaps in time he would bear scars like his father, earned instead of taken. Those that crossed his eyes were made in defeat, and he was ashamed of them.
She spoke quietly but the words hit him like a slap. For an instance, and only an instance, a dark and terrible fury bled into his eyes and turned them to a deep and almost reddish amber. Then the coyote was smiling again, his face a placid mask that did not betray the terrible thing that hid under it. Once he had been without this shadow, but the crow-wolf had given him a curse with those scars. “Aw, c’mon Tali…” He dropped down and placed his hands on her too-thin shoulders, moving one to lift her chin so he could look her in the eyes. “If you weren’t here then what would I have?” A father that was as much a stranger to the boy as Gabriel had been to Ahren.
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