It was not towards the entrance where he so often lingered that the male would come to be found, but deep within the woods instead. He was situated near an old, abandoned burrow, into which he stared before stuffing a new rabbit fur into it; it was the first addition he’d made to his hidden storage in years, the last having been when he was just a pup. Following that, he turned to leave, only to stop in his tracks as he spotted Laurel. He did not say anything to her—he didn’t know what to say, honestly—and instead just nodded, acknowledging her presence but leaving the decision in her paws on whether or not they’d converse.

Alexander did not say much, nor make any attempt at taking his leave. Rather, he watched. He kept still and observed her—listened to her—until it became perfectly clear that she was serious. And in a moment’s notice his own posture was rigid, tail arched over his back whilst his ears stood tall; he did not feel himself, having been beaten down one too many times in his short life, but his instincts were still there. Yet, even with his display and her demands, he did not attack. “I told you already that they are exactly what you want them to be,” he stated first, staring her down. Even if Reigi had remained, that would not have changed the fact that all of his children were as equally entitled to the valley as the next—no matter their mothers.

The threat hung in the air and he took a step towards her, teeth flashing briefly, but he had hardly any momentum left to maintain it. He didn’t have the energy to argue and especially not to fight, nor did he wish for his children to be taken away from him—hell, he didn’t even want Laurel or Indra to leave, despite everything, for they truly were some of the only ones he had left. “Fine,” he decided. “Lead alongside me, let your sister lead under us—I don’t care. Whatever keeps you here.” Because at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered to him: that he not be abandoned again.

Alexander stood there and waited, wondering what else there was to be said. He kept silent, watching her, but soon realised that there would be no words following her last. “Is there anything else you wanted?” he asked, figuring he should ensure everything was taken care of before he made an attempt to leave. At this point, he didn’t care much for her demands, he was just too exhausted to fight them.

The silence continued whilst the male simply stared, expecting more but hearing nothing. Frowning, he lingered there in silence for a moment or two longer than what he normally would have, waiting to see if anything else would be said, but nothing happened. “I guess you have the only thing you ever wanted from this place,” he decided, turning his head and breaking his gaze away from her. “The only reason you actually stayed, right?” It was an assumption; this he made clear as he turned away from her and began to walk, prepared to put some distance between them if not stopped.

But Xan did not make it far. He’d started to walk, to distance himself from her, but his gait was slow and his intentions unclear; he wanted to leave but, at the same time, he wanted to talk. His beliefs, what he thought to be her reasoning, pushed him forward and away from her, yet he stopped. He came to a sudden halt and just stood there, not looking at her, but still present all the same. And the longer he stood there, the more he realised that he was a hypocrite; he yelled and grappled for anyone he could, sharing his woes of abandonment and loneliness, but wasn’t he pushing the same feelings onto another? He’d tried to leave her, to separate himself from her entirely, and yet that was the very same thing that he’d feared, for a great length of time now, would happen to him—something that had happened to him.

Frowning and gritting his teeth, the albino turned back around. He did not approach her—not yet—he just simply stared forward at her, attempting to piece together something to say; he knew he was supposed to say something after what he’d tried to do—he knew that he would want to hear something, had their roles been reversed. “Aren’t you going to say something?” he asked instead, ever so awful with these sorts of situations. “Or was I right?”

For as much as he wanted to pull others close, he had a terrible habit of pushing them away instead.

The threat sent his blood to boiling and his lips curled back. This was his home, his land, and he would not be threatened within it. With a tense form he stole several steps in her direction, gaze narrowed and incisors flashed. He was the rightful heir to Bearclaw Valley, the first to be born to the former king and queen. The thought alone that, that might be taken from him infuriated the man—yet he did not attack. Something held him back, something drained him slowly of the rage that’d been so close to exploding just moments ago; he didn’t understand the change, nor was the shift in his demeanour—from aggressive to closed off—a conscious one.

“If you want to take my place, you’ll have to kill me first,” he declared. “Can you do that, Laurel? Can you kill me?” He continued towards her, legs stiff, only this time his teeth remained hidden. His usual glare was absent from his eyes—they were dull now—as he tilted his head back, revealing his throat to her. “Go ahead—take what you want from me. The world will be better once I’m gone, right?”