You'd give your life you'd sell your soul

Though her tone had softened, her response just made him angry. He was so fed-up with everyone's butthurt bullshit. By taking time away from the packlands to sort out his feelings and get his head straight over Peregrine's promotion and the loss of his chance at a relationship with Hawkeye, somehow Atticus had pissed off Peregrine and inflicted wounds and scars that would probably never heal. And he still didn't understand that. Now here was his sister, whose existence in their pack had been a mystery to him before now, and because he wasn't omnipotent and hadn't magically known she was here the moment she arrived and hadn't been there to throw a welcoming party for her, now she too was pissed off at him and giving him shit. He was tired of his siblings being such pussies lately.

"Would it make any difference if I told you I didn't even know you were here?" he asked, putting particular emphasis on the last part. Sure, maybe her scent was around the lands…but so were the scents of like fifteen other wolves, and they were all scattered around hundreds of square miles. He couldn't really recall coming across hers at any point. Or maybe he had, and simply hadn't recognized it. It'd been a long time since he'd sniffed her ass, after all. "Or is it just more fun to hang out with the 'I'm Pissed Off At Atticus' club? I hear that's growing in popularity these days. I haven't even been in the lands for most of the last two months. Get over yourself and chill out with the guilt trip act. "