Honeyed Pasture in the big rock candy mountains, there’s a land that’s fair and bright

[table width=85%][tr][td]

The pack moves in unison to their new home, but their progression is aching slow and it stokes the restlessness within the feral Cathan. The feral Commander has not made any attempts to be subtle about his displeasure at this hand. He bears his teeth and snarls low in his throat any time he is near the pair responsible for this. Nor does he help the their spawn. He would sooner kill the little bastards than help move them. So he does not help. Instead the enforcer keeps his distance and sticks close to his brother and August which their fierce queen has allowed to be theirs…(his). Declan’s obsessions calm him, keeping the feral in tentative chains. Chains which threaten to snap beneath the force of his thrashing. He is sick of harboring wolves that had endangered The Family. He is tired of suffering while they get off with a slap on the ass and a “don’t do it again” and his intense stares that would burn Ceannasach — if Declan had the ability to burn with his gaze — make his thoughts clear without him needing to speak. That is not the Ceannasach he knows. That is not a Ceannasach he will follow.

He hears the low, tortured noise from a nearby ungulate and moves from his bed among August and Conan to join the pregnant queen at her side. She may call him Comhlach but he is Commander still in his mind. He does not like changes to the hierarchy he has established where he reigns at the top as the dominate. So despite the trouble it will cause him he ignores where Teaghlaigh ranks him currently. He lets out a low grunt as his burning amber gaze scans for the injured ungulate, salivating against the promise of a kill and a full belly.

[/td][/tr][/table]