Blackfeather Woods revolution is a self taught language

He casts his eyes to his father, as the Northerner spits back some information that Vaati had considered himself, quite often. That he, as he talked about his mother's curses, was very much one of them if not the role reason his mother was so mentally plagued. "I don't doubt it." Vaati sneers, the white of his fangs flashing amidst the dark. In fact, he is very much part of the reason his mother resorted to drugging herself to simply escape the reality she lived. However, it was not for the reason his father believes. His part in his mother's pain was for the sole reason that he refused to let her die, refused to let her wither away like she had never been great once. Vaati refused to go easy on her. 

If there is one thing Vaati defended with all that he had, was that the pups, regardless of their conception were wholly innocent of the crimes of their father. They were no more tainted than the rest of the woods and the deeds done within. "The children may have been her curse, but they are not her's only. They belong to the woods, our Gods and most importantly, they are my siblings. Their lives, regardless of their conception, are not her's to take." It was why he had been so adamant that they live. He shared his mother's pain in the sentiment that it was Cicero who had forced their creation, but beyond that, they were not his uncle's children. Neither were they solely Potema's. They were neither a curse or terrible reminder, but the next generation of Blackfeather Woods. They were innocent, and if one could look past their obvious afflictions, normal, healthy and lively children who had not deserved the lack of a mother. 

He disregards the venom within Kjalarr's words in referral to his siblings, not even rationally considering that anyone would risk the stupidity to suggest anything malicious against them. It was fit for a death sentence, a risk to even insult their unfortunate circumstance was disrespect in the highest degree, equivalent to insulting the sovereign himself. They were Blackfeather royalty. Yet again, there was a reason Kjalarr lingered among the scum of their ranks, and would likely never move. Entitlement seemed to coat his father's tone, as if the man had any say over the fate and existence of both his mother and the children she birthed. As if he had any rights at all. "Call them monsters again and you won't have a home here." He says so, in the manner of returning the sentiment the other held for the spiderlings. Vaati could quickly learn hate his father in favour of the dignity of his younger siblings, if the pattern continued. And for one to be at the receiving end of the yearling's strong disdain was an unfortunate thing indeed.