The Sentinels wayward son

His frown would only deepen at Eilidh’s words – his own ire rising at himself more than ever – how had he missed such moments in his brother’s life? Moments he might have been able to aide him? “Do you know of his whereabouts?” The question was soft, his eyes drifting between his sister and the Beta – noticing a lack of transparency in the despondent regal and that she still refused to speak to him or even look his way.

As his sister called for their father, Constantine shifted, watching the pale stranger dismiss herself. He made no comment to her, instead, his eyes would drift down to his younger sister, offering her a gentle smile as his thoughts attempted to process the news of his brother.

Lasher came – and the coil of his muscles would instantly relax at the sight of the familiar man – a man he truly did love like no other. Lasher proved to be many things, but an idol was at the top of the list for the youth – and as the warmth of his father’s tongue washed over him, Constantine would tip his muzzle forward, taking to brush the single tear away with a loving brush of his nose. “Father,” he greeted, accepting the embrace with a crooning growl. “I have traveled to many places,” he rumbled gently, pulling back to allow his eyes to study the features of his father with earnest. “Ach tá sé seo sa bhaile.” Falling in to place by his family, the yearling would speak of his travels — the cultures of packs he had come across and those he had met