Haunted Wood Some liar brought the thunder.

They were of the same mind, which struck a silent chord in Revui. If this man's people fell to the boy's teeth, it was their own fault. If they couldn't handle his strength, his tenacity, or the fact that he would not stop until he destroyed them, it was because they were weak. No pack could survive with such weakness; by living among them, Revui would be doing them a service by cutting out the bad blood as one might cut away at cancer. If it meant he would have free reign of the caches and thus survive the winter, that was all the better for him. There was no downside here as far as Revui could tell.

Fine. He states just as flatly as before. No enthusiasm, just an icy chill and sense of entitlement. His gaze finally drifted away from the older man's face; the steel there remained, the loathing, the hunger, but he no longer directed it at this man. Then I'll stay.

With nothing else to discuss, Revui began to march again, and this time he would disregard Vengeance—moving deeper in the wood to prowl for something warm to eat, whether that be a fresh rat or a wolf didn't much matter.