The Sentinels recurve

Despite her command, the pale boy continued to look entirely too pleased with himself, his mis-matched eyes aglow with the kind of humor that only came from putting oneself above others. His yellowish grin, too, made the dark girl's gut burn with rage. But she was learning to hold her peace, and thus, did nothing more than narrow her eyes at his continued mirth. When he spoke again, her resolve not to fight almost broke - and would have, if not for hearing something that stopped her in her tracks.

Ribs. Markings. A ripple of understanding passed through the young shewolf, physically manifesting in a twitch of the skin on her back. Cairn. Not another word for a grave, but a name. Hers?

Burgundy eyes burned into the face of the boy, suspicious, desperate, angry. Was this a trick? Or had her family been here all this time? Was she only seeing things? She was at loath to breath life into anything that might be leading her on, but the boy was the same age as her, and she knew that she'd had more siblings. Ones that had disappeared before Doe's wrath had been revealed.

"Bror?" she asked abruptly. And then, in a more hesitant voice, "Son - son of Skellige?"