Blackfeather Woods eye of the beholder

Though he did not deserve them, Malice's words were warm to his weary heart. A smile briefly painted Cicero's features in silent gratitude, before a growl erupted from the densite. It was not unwarranted, truly, that he should be treated so. Cicero wished there had been another way, but he had not had the strength to see what was going on. Not until it was too late.

Malice excused herself and although Cicero would have enjoyed spending a bit more time in her company, he nodded in silent understanding. Before she departed for a drink, he shot her a glance which was laced with emotion, showing that whatever would happen, he would make sure they would remain unharmed; he would help them, if need be.

And then it was just him and the anger inside of the den. There was little left to say, except: "It is harder to face betrayal from a friend than an enemy." He was not sure the words would bring anything but more pain, would do anything but to tear the scab from the barely healed wounds upon Burke's soul. "If it helps, Burke can hurt Cicero." Because he knew that... "It usually helps." Mismatched eyes stared into the darkness of the den, awaiting for Burke to arise, whether with snapping teeth or not.

Cicero understood this was not anything that could be fixed, but the least he could do was help Burke let off some steam. Regain some of his control. He thought back to the ruddy wolf on the mountain, wondered how she fared now. Wondered if it'd helped. If this'd help.