Blackfeather Woods from dancing mice to psychopaths

They do not have to wait long. A shadow shifts among them, and in that time Leda is pressed near to his pale shoulder. Her command is heeded, as all her commands must be, and he gives a small dip of his snout to show his acquiescence. The shadow presents itself moments later, gruff and unimpressed. Had he been more forthright — or perhaps not ordered to hold his tongue — then, Castor thought, he would have made this man treat his sister with greater respect. Her previous station aside, she was a pure and wonderful being. A creature of great fortitude. A beauty. The boy's fur sifted in a wave along his shoulders as he felt the electricity of his own irritation, but he did not follow through. Leda's voice answered the question, leaving Castor to simply observe, to guard.