Ravenshook Cliffs rain falls down my cheek, i wish i knew better than i know now

When the nymph turned to meet his gaze, he felt a peculiar stirring inside of her. It was almost as though she had aged into something else; the youthful thought of endless hope and good will had vanished momentarily and was replaced by something that was far more realistic. The ink-cloaked titan was not certain that he was capable of understanding the level of hurt that the Mayfair girl felt. She had been brought into the world with a particular ideal and it had been tarnished by the wolf that she trusted – the wolf her father had trusted. While he knew better than to expect kindness and peace to last within a pack, he did not want to see Deirdre in so much pain. Donnelaith was falling apart and she was stuck in the middle of it.
 
When the girl spoke, he drew his ears forward and listened. She did not wish to stay in one place for too long and so she continued moving along the cliffs. Skellige followed her, holding his head low against the battering of raindrops. She mentioned that the intended sanctuary of Donnelaith had been tarnished by the pale leader and he found a frown curling his dark lips downward. The woman had visited him and spoken of an alliance that he had wished to be forged with Deirdre… things rarely turned out as they were anticipated to.
 
“Aria,” he breathed the alpha’s name with a cold growl. “She is entitled, Deirdre… she walks the earth as if it owes her something. But she came to me to forge an alliance between our packs,” the brute explained to her with a distasteful glance. “You must take the place of this woman.” There could be no other way – if the wolf Aria intended to keep her position as leader of Donnelaith, Skellige could only think of the countless ways that his warring wolves would destroy her.
 
The pale witch had spoken so highly of the wolves of the wood. Skellige had imagined them all to be like the young Mayfair child, but it was an idealistic thought and an unrealistic one at that. What had frustrated him more than this was the meeting of Constantine; the dark wolf had been a light in Deirdre’s life, and all Skellige could see was a brute who doted on the bitch in charge. These words would not be spoke, though; they would remain as thoughts in his rage-filled mind.