Blacktail Deer Plateau the devil's bleeding crude oil from a hole in his chest

Mordecai seemed content as well to get to his own business, though he gave no real indication as to whether or not he accepted the alpha's words. Perhaps because his own news made all of that inconsequential. It was the last thing he expected to hear, and stood a moment, unable to react.

It should have been expected. But when spring had come and gone and still Mordecai had remained, Dante had gained the hope that perhaps his loyalty meant more than a passing winter home. Apparently this hope had been naive, and though Mordecai's words were kind, he couldn't help the bitter taste of disappointment. A generous host. He'd been kidding himself, thinking he'd come to see this place as home. Those words made it clear that had never been the case.

"May I ask why now?" The words were neutral, carefully controlled. He wished more of an explanation, for it was his own curse that things like this were so hard not to take personally. That Harlyn was not even present was not something Dante realized currently, but perhaps later he would, when the punch wore off and the edge gone.