Blackfeather Woods fruit of thy womb.

Oh give me a fucking break Emma. He was actually entertained by the notion that his mother was ever concerned with their well-being. La bête de la nuit, they called her, for the only time she was ever seen was tearing into another's flesh in the midst of the night. As she nipped at him and snapped at his tail, his growls grew louder, stronger, but the moment he felt her weight come down upon him, it was a struggle for life.
Her jaws were clamped down on his face, digging into the flesh on age around his eye. Lennox was trying his best to fight her off when finally, the angles fell into place. With whatever strength he'd had left brewing within, he aimed for her throat, trying to take whatever of it he could.