Golden Glade Hells Angels

When his wife kissed him and the kids away, the first thing Alder did was fix Rowan with a deadly stare -- the boys scarlet eyes already bore defiantly into the King's face, hackles raised and tail curling over his tiny rump. 

It was a slightly funny scene perhaps, seeing this pup no taller than your ankle -- if that -- baring his fangs and claiming dominance over his massive, heavily scarred and equally as pissed off father. Alder leaned down, aiming to grab the pup by his scruff and carry him into one of the further corners of the den to better keep him contained, but the loose skin just passed through his fangs and the heir turned tail to run out of the den after his mother. Snarling, the King shot a glare to Rose, Tigerlily, and Hawthorn, clearly telling them that if they chose to follow, their day would get very bad, very fast. Seconds after, his heels kicked up in an effort to catch Rowan, but truth be told his hulking frame was just big enough to hinder the cream and ginger brute to charge on through. 

Rowan broke The Post much sooner than Alder, bolting after his mothers scent and, despite having to squint painfully against the sun with a whine, charged right through the Glade towards his mother, howling every step for her. Grumbling, his father pressed his nose to the earth and trotted after his sons scent. 

Of course, it was Rowan who got to the group of wolves first -- two he knew as Court wolves, family and safe beings, but one was a man of such dark color he just didn't look right against the otherwise pale wolves Rowan had come to know -- and he immediatley bore his fangs at what he would know soon as his Uncle Onai. As he'd just done minutes ago with his father, the snowy boys pelt flared, ears fanning back against his head; he moved to stand between his mothers forepaws, somewhere between hiding under her and protecting her. 

Then, Alder came trotting into view -- his son's disobedience forgotten, pelt flared and a fierce snarl ripping from his ivory fangs-- the King didn't like the upset tones trilling from his mate, and though he didn't know who this ebony male was, he knew this was no good news. 

                           "Angel?"

His murmur was for her only as he strode up to her side, tail curling above his hips and ears thrown forward in a clear sign of who was in charge around here. It was a question of whether or not she wanted him here, really -- should she wish him chased off, killed, or left to speak, he would bow to her word -- and only after her word was given would he address everything else. To Shalon, he spared a thankful greeting nod, but his focus was, primarily, on Aspen.