There was no specific reason for Anatole to look down on this cousin. He was nothing wrong about him, nothing done to offend the dark boy…yet the shadow within him was one bred of contempt. Those who were weak were looked down upon. Claudius’ stutter was proof he was weak of heart—at least, this was how Anatole had always believed it. Oddities meant different. In a time before their virus, he would have chased his cousin away for such a thing. Instinctively, he perhaps still heard the call of this old blood.
War. It was war that had come and turned this land on its head. The names were familiar, strange, and he listened silently. His bright eyes turned from one to the other, but he said nothing. Finally, when his cousin concluded, the dark male let out a breath he did not realize he was holding. “So,” he paused, considering the words. “They put you in charge, but now she’s in charge?” Simple. Simple as it was, he wondered why his cousin had not held onto the rank. “I think we’ll need to talk,” the dark-brushed wolf added to his cousin and turned back to the woman. “What do say, then?”
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