Blackfeather Woods I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy

The feeling of success that had come with pinning the other boy was short-lived, the shriek having quickly been followed-up by an attempt to get away. Unlike the last time, Seff fought back, teeth being directed towards the albino. After noticing what it was that he was doing, a growl tore through the yearling’s throat. It deepened once he’d felt the younger male’s incisors connect with his shoulder, warning him and demanding that he release his grip. He’d failed to feed Xan, and now he had the audacity to fight back against his punishment? How bold the child had become, though foolish to think himself capable of holding his own.

As if to prove a point, the Inuit’s head darted forward with his jaws parted, acting with the intent to latch onto the side of Seff’s neck. He would not kill him, nor even come close—the idea of what might then happen to him should he off Potema’s little follower wasn’t something he wanted to risk bringing to life—but he did want to scare him. To show him that, in spite of what had happened, Alexander was still in charge. That he was still himself and couldn’t be pushed around or denied.