Blackfeather Woods Yes, I am the father of those Squealing Furry Patatoes

Hearing the threat, the man could not keep his gaze from narrowing. That was his son, his blood, and he’d allow no harm to befall the child. He managed to keep himself from growling at the grey male, though how he’d accomplished that would forever remain a mystery. As old fashion as it sounded, one’s child was similar to being a possession, or so Kove assumed. To hurt the kid would, surely, have consequences. Perhaps it was thoughts like that’d which allowed for him to not lash out at the tank right then and there—or maybe he just didn’t take his threat too seriously. Whichever the case, he kept himself visibly calm as the other got out the last of what he wished to say. Within his mind, his thoughts were whirlwind, the only clear thing being his conscious, his voice of reason. It also, most likely, contributed to his restraint against the temptation of responding to the threat.
 
Even if Burke had not dismissed him, the male would have left anyways. The threat had hit a serious nerve with him, leading him to believe that putting distance between himself and the new father would be the best option. With a curt nod of his head, the Inuit turned and headed off in the same direction from which he’d arrived. The hare was left behind, having been brought as a gift to his queen, though he doubted it would ever reach her. No matter, he’d have plenty of opportunities as time progressed. For the time being, he kept his legs moving, not sparing a single glance back in the direction of the grey wolf.