The former Ayastigi had been conditioned to anticipate the worst, especially when it came to rejection from other luperci. He wouldn’t have admitted such a thing aloud, but it was at the root of his pessimistic nature, and it made him the groveling creature he was capable of being. Like now, the left side of his face twitched when the other’s harlequin green eyes found him—but the other’s tone of voice was merely blunt, not unkind.
“The war,” Unasti echoed, and it seemed like a topic had been found that could shut him up for a few minutes. He blinked then gave his head a quick shake, the braided sections of his hair whipping around weighed down by their beads. “Maska Ahote,” he said quietly. “I almost—I almost forgot about it.” That in itself was strange, since the drama revolving around the apparent tyrant had taken some of the heat off his own mistakes.
“I’m sorry,” he added, coming at last to the conclusion that what he’d said was rude anyway, bad implications or not. “I should be more—adaptable.” He looked over his shoulder as he quoted his spirit guide’s words, but she was nowhere to be found; either simply imperceptible for the moment or just elsewhere.
“Is Ulilohi making things better?” Una asked with a distinct lack of wordiness. Mention of war had served to still the loquacious wolf’s tongue.
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