Haunted Wood no one hurts this pretty girl but her

He did not respond to his mother's stammering. He had an idea of what she was getting at, but he did not care to comment. He did not want to talk about it. He did not want to talk about what was coming. He did not want to talk at all. He did not even shift his gaze away from the distant point he had locked his eye to. When he spoke, his voice was as distant as his stare, and characterized by a defeated hollowness.

"No," he said. He glanced at her then, his squinted eye tracing the path the bear's claw took through his mother's ear and across her lip. Without any intervention besides cleaning, her injuries would heal on their own, but they would not close, he knew. She would carry her own reminder of the bear's attack. "You could put some horsetail on yours," he commented. "You'll be fine either way." His muzzle twitched into a sneer for all of a second, and he looked away. He did not fault his mother for anything, but he was hit with a stab of jealously that she was relatively unscathed, and his sister entirely so. He sighed deeply, casting out that resentment. It was not their fault the world hated him.