Lost Creek Hollow i'm floating down a river / oars freed from their holes long ago

He took in and let out a slow draw of breath, in and out, in and out, like he'd been taught to do to control the blaze of emotions, as Larkspur turned to face him. Her barrage of questions did little to help his agenda to stay calm, yet he managed to subdue his wildfire to a contained burn - something he could press down and control until she left him. He couldn't quite discern the thoughts and conclusions she drew with her mind, but he knew he had her audience, and he planned not to squander it again.

"Tuathal." He answered, tight and controlled. "The Blackthorns are a family," his lips twitched and he corrected, "uh, my family. That red shock down your back made me think you were one. We all have one - see" he eased to his paws and turned so she could see the dark line that made its way from the crown of his head to the tip of his tail. And now the heat of his paranoia burned his cheeks. Of course Larkspur wasn't a relative. Despite her russet mark, it hardly stretched the distance of his, and her's wasn't black. Obviously. "But uh, I guess yours is different. Red, and short, and stuff... so, um, yeah..." and he lapsed into a thorough uncertainty of what more to say. He finally concluded with an awkward shrug.