Bearclaw Valley I’ll confront and fight for the souls in this street, whoa

Xan expected to have things his way. Why he continued to think that way was a mystery, considering the fact that hardly anything ever went the way he wanted it to. So far, anyways. He didn't want the sandy child there, but the boy was not removed. He didn't want the silver one close to his mother, but he didn't leave. Now, here he was wanting out, and someone was in his way again. He was getting tired of no one listening to him, especially when he made it obvious that he wanted to leave the foul-smelling den. The Roman did not move when he'd been ordered to do so, which was really pushing it. Again, he was further annoyed when the male started to laugh at him. Did he think it was a game? Stupid man. It was not a game, not even close. The young Inuit had already played a game with the dark wolf—Cry, if he remembered correctly—and he was not in the mood to play another. The final straw was when the larger male tried ordering him to go, as being told what to do was not something he appreciated. He'd let his mother get away with it, for obvious reasons, but who was this guy to try and pull the same stunt?

The boy did not move, despite the tone of the elder. He held his ground, defiance written all over his face. There was no way he'd ever listen to the smelly wolf. "No," he stated, using another one of his favourite words. Alexander stayed where he was for a few seconds longer, before continuing his march forward. If the other wouldn't go willingly, then he'd force him to move. Maybe he could even get him into trouble with his mother, that way he'd have her all to himself. "Go," he repeated as he got closer, making it clear he had no plans of turning tail and running away. No, the child knew exactly what he wanted, and wouldn't rest until he got it. All he needed to do was get rid of the man blocking his way, and he'd be free to come and go as he pleased. Xan liked that idea.