Meadowlark Prairie In the number of times I punched with my fist

The pain the other boy felt was something Xan could not even begin to imagine. To have ones bone broken in such a manner, to the point where it looked as if it'd been mangled, sounded terrible. He’d been a careful child for the majority of his life, more or less, so an injury of that magnitude was something he’d yet to experience—and might never. The most he’d ever received was nips of correction, which he’d despised, along with the more recent bruise on his side. Given the size of his attacker, his bones could have very easily been broken, and yet he’d left without anything of serious proportions. A bruise, no matter how large, was nothing in comparison to the fracturing of a bone. And to hear that he knew of no one capable of fixing it was concerning, as much as the Inuit hated to admit to feeling such a thing. With his anger towards Scarlett, he no longer had an issue with the lion boy, and probably owed him for all he’d put him through back then. “Why don’t you go somewhere else?” the elder questioned, tone signaling he viewed the situation as having an easy fix. “If there’s no healers at your new home, then it probably isn’t worth hanging around at. The first time something bad happens, you’ll be lucky if you survive. There’s plenty of other places out there.”
 
For him, the idea of leaving it all was a simple thing to go about doing. If a place put you in life-threatening danger, the only logical thing to do would be to leave. Simple as that. He was tempted to suggest Blackfeather right away, but held himself back for a bit. It was true, the younger just didn’t appear to fit in there. He was soft and easily pushed around, from what Xan could remember. There’s no doubt he’d end up at the bottom of the food chain in the dark woods—but still, even that seemed better than wherever he was currently staying at. “You’re really different,” the pale child announced, agreeing with his words. “Blackfeather might be better for you than where you’re currently living, though. There’s wolves there who could probably help you out with your paw, and teach you how to be better.” Better, but not the best. That spot was reserved for Alexander, and he’d make sure that was known if the need ever arose. “If you come back to the woods, you could learn to fight. You could get payback on whoever attacked you,” Xan added, attempting to coax the other whelp into making a decision. Perhaps he’d even look out for the other boy, share his lessons with him. Maybe it was the absence of his sisters that led him to want to look out for the sandy wolf. His "older-brother-instincts" had been tapped into, and then his siblings had left with his mother. Somehow, seeing the smaller lupine and remembering what he’d put him through had led to his instincts, once again, being revved to life.
 
Alexander shrugged, then, a trace of his irritation still lingering in his gaze. “She did it because she isn’t nice,” he stated, not missing a beat. “She acts nice, but she isn’t. Dad called her a monster, and he wouldn’t lie to us, so it has to be true. She proved that by leaving.” Throughout his parents’ entire argument, he and his sister had been there, listening to the words that were thrown. The idea of his dad leading a pack was something he enjoyed imagining, but Kove had been unable to. “There was no one left to lead,” Xan informed him. “They either went along with her, or they weren’t around at all. Everyone left. The valley was empty.” It had been a terrible thing. He didn’t know where they’d gone, or why they had left, but the fact still stood that they were gone. They’d been gone before the pack had even met its downfall, so perhaps they’d been aware of the storm that was brewing. Maybe they’d gotten out just in time, not wanting to be caught in the middle of a battle between parents. That was just a theory, though, and one that Xan had yet to share with anyone. Besides, how could they have possibly known what was to come?
 
When a growl sounded, the Inuit glanced around, only to find that it’d come from Leo. He quirked an invisible eyebrow at that, silently questioning his actions, but that expression fell away when the younger looked up. Fear was evident in the child’s eyes, forcing a look of concern onto the small ghosts face. Hearing his question, Xan perked his ears up and turned his head some, listening to the area around them. Being met with nothing, his attention was returned to the other. At first, he thought he might have been trying to mess with him, but after seeing the fearful look again, those thoughts were forgotten. The expression was authentic, that was for sure. “I didn’t hear anything,” he answered, watching with careful eyes. “Maybe it came from inside your head.” Though he knew nothing of schizophrenia, he did understand the existence of a conscious. While he found it odd Leo could not tell his inner voice from an outside voice, he didn’t say anything about it. The lion was younger than himself, after all, so there was bound to be things the elder knew that he didn’t. Too bad his assumption wasn’t even right.