Ceallach could feel more fractions in him, and although he didn't understand his father's behavior he wasn't exactly afraid of it. He could see in himself after all a similar trait, some dark angry thing that raised up and had him launching himself at trees to rip the bark from them. He'd cut into his paws, refusing to show Hemlock or mention it to her, but that didn't make him stop at all. He couldn't stop. Every time he started to think of Lotte he got the same raw choked feeling from finding out about her death - and then his thoughts inevitably strayed to Chusi, Mallaidh, and Roarke. That was when the rage started and seeped in until the entire world was viewed through different eyes. 

The world simmered and burnt and crackled, and the boy was lost to his emotions and the physical reaction that they caused. He knew that they were going to have to cut through here - there was no way that Hemlock could climb the mountains and if she did whelp and they had to hunker down no way that Ceallach wanted his siblings born in the mountains and their cold, rocky cliffs. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for them but as he drove himself past the Cedars and into the more murky territory beyond Ceallach wondered, and not for the first time, what they were going to do.