Grouse Thicket the foetus of a new day kicking

Speak of them? But he could not. It was as ingrained within him as his proper posture, his ettiquette! He could not speak of someone that had been excommunicated from the family. The pain that Lasher saw was likely a mixture; a sadness for his lost family member, the worry for himself, the struggle of the conversation as a whole. And now he felt the need to end it, at least to redirect Lasher to some other topic.

He shook his head when given the chance to speak of Sisley, as it was not his place. He may have been removed from the pack himself, an unmentionable in a different context (one he truly dared not bring before this man); but he would not break the rule which had been taught to him from childhood. He had pushed the boundary of this too far already, and was shutting down.

non, Renoir all but whispered, refusing with a shake of his head. Li se tan lontan an. Mwen pa kapab... Mwen pa pral.

He thought of his family. Of the many he knew, the many he did not; the stories passed around when he was a small child which had fostered his dedication to his father. He thought of Monet and felt his heart grow heavy again, and Renoir fell in to a state of quiet contemplation, unable to rouse even the smallest bit of conversation from himself. He had a new family and they needed him - Lasher, his pack, his children, Deirdre, - and so he returned to his search.