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#388
He had shrunk. Usually so tall, the view was quite different from here. Everywhere were towering figures, and while Dawali paid attention to what was going on, his mind played for a moment with the thought of his most recent experience in this form. He had no memories of it. He had shifted a few times, he knew, but he could not remember this view — it was simply too many years ago. It was the strangest feeling, but it drowned in the shame and pity he felt right then.
The red wolf reacted with nothing at Leon's act of loyalty and Nayati's heated questions, looking away as they displayed their doubt and mistrust with their entire beings. Had he been someone else he might have felt pride in them, affection, but they caused him more pain with their actions. He felt as if he could not feel more shame, look more shamed, with his dropped ears and bent posture, until his sister spoke. That moment he sunk, and he stayed there now, in another place than the rest of them. He knew her words were true, but he would have hoped for affectionate glance from this baby sister he had raised almost alongside his daughters. Worst, he could do nothing to help himself or right her words, or right his wrongs. Coldly, he stared at the unfurling situation, listening to the words from a great distance. Gvihita clicked her beak disapprovingly and screeched at them all, the loyal and the indifferent, but no sound came; she was as invisible and inaudible to them as Dawali ought to be. Finally, Maska tired from their quarreling and demanded him to explain his shame to his "people".
He cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing barely at the nearby Guardian, Shadi. "Listen to Maska." he began, intent on keeping it short. "I have done you wrong, and he is a kind wolf to spare my life. I am not worthy of your loyalty, nor do I want it. You pain me in disrespecting him." His gaze was downcast as he spoke, though he spoke very clearly. Finishing, he swallowed, and though he felt the need to straighten his neck to inject strength into his words, he dared not; it could be seen as an attempt to re-gain even just a hint of authority. He looked as beaten as he felt; like a deep, long sigh of renunciation.