Blackfeather Woods Black as night. Cold as winter.

The tear that ran down Damien's cheek seemed to hold no feelings or emotions behind it, but rather a blank coldness and uncertainty. Why Bane had abandoned his pups was a question that had never crossed Damien's mind, instead, all he could think about it was: Who was Bane? The pup had never got to know his dad enough to take a liking or even an attachment to him, and although he had felt bad about his departure it was because he'd seen a model in him. So imposing. Damien wanted to be that.

"You have our eyes..." said Kenneth suggestively.

"But I am not from the North..." the teen said with trouble, "I was born here, I have never left this place..." he claimed denying the possibility of having any ties to Ziragon Bosk and its wolves.

Damien listened carefully at the Gloom's story, storing every piece of information, and couldn't help thinking the the final part of it sounded utterly familiar. Silvery white with white eyes. That's how his absent father looked, or at least, that's how he remembered it. Laying in the snow, camouflaged by it, sounded a lot like someone who came from that Ziragon Bosk Kenneth was talking about. Impressed, confused and with hesitation and a shaky voice, the night child lowly said:

"I... I think I know your twin..."