Blackfeather Woods He hurt him away

Again had Potema been the first to speak, asking a question and then promising a solution that he knew no one could actually provide. It could not be fixed, and what had happened could not be taken back. He’d wished that it could be, that he’d eventually wake up and discover that the entire situation had been a terrible nightmare, but, deep down, he knew that that would never happen. It had not been a dream, but reality, and things that happen on the physical plane could never been taken back. Time could not be warped so that one might be able to go back and change an event, it could only ever allow for life to move forward. “You can’t fix it,” he’d told her, shaking his head. “I… I want to go back and change things, but I can’t. No one can.” If there existed any way to do so, he’d have gladly given up anything and everything in order to alter the past. To call out to himself and warn him, to keep himself from having suffered under the wrath of another male for a crime that he’d never known anything about.

From the shadows had the devil himself then emerged, feigning ignorance to what troubled the yearling so severely. Upon seeing him, Xan had taken several retreating steps, the motion an unconscious one. Against his ribs, he could feel his heart pounding at an abnormally fast rate, panic setting in. Though he’d wished to hide every detail of what had happened—including the who that had terrified him—he’d not been able to prevent his instincts from kicking in. The Inuk wanted to flee, for he knew he could not fight, but his legs wouldn’t move. “You kno—,” he began, but was quick to cut himself off. His mouth ran dry and words refused to form, but he could not move. Not another inch in any direction could be taken, he could only stand there and stare at his attacker. Some part of him wanted to lunge forward, to disregard the fact that they were not alone and attack without mercy, but he knew he couldn’t. Not only because he was sure that doing so would result in his death, but because his fear would not allow his for his body to move.

Damien’s voice had snapped him out of his trance, serving as a large enough distraction for his gaze to be torn off of the patchwork male. “You won’t—,” his voice cracked, and so he’d shut his mouth. He’d awaited his voice’s return, and for the dryness of his throat to be washed away, before having tried to speak again. “You won’t need to protect me out there,” Xan said, convincing himself that he’d not be followed. “He—No…” Shaking his head again, an attempt was made at figuring out what he could say. Too much said would result in the details coming to light, and too little would make it seem as if he was only acting out again in some way. Eventually, he’d decided on saying, “I won’t be in danger out there.” At least, he hoped so. He was desperate, really, willing to cling to any sort of hope that might present itself to him. The idea of actually leaving, however, unsettled him. Not nearly as much as staying, but the discomfort was still there. And so he’d looked to Damien pleadingly, his past goals remembered, along with the laws of the pack.

“I still want to make her proud…” he’d said, his tone hushed for the words were meant for the eldest sibling alone. Still had Alexander’s gaze drifted towards the other two, though, lingering on Cicero longer to make sure that he didn’t approach. He could hardly stand being as close as he currently was to the male, and so any less distance between them would surely result in an outburst of some sort. “I want to be able to see my parents, my siblings,” Xan continued. “I don’t want to lose my family again.” But, he couldn’t stay there. He could visit—he wanted to have that option—but he could not sleep within the woods any longer. The shadows had betrayed him, and so the home could be his no longer.