Bramblepoint devil's song

After a pause that seemed to last a lifetime, Rannoch finally removed his gigantic paw from Redshank's chest. The boy quickly scrambled onto his feet and stepped away a few paces before the other man decided to change his mind. He tried to hide his wheezing as he tried to breathe air back into his winded lungs, all the while staring daggers at his supposed leader now. Despite all his resentment towards the man, however, he listened to what Rannoch had to say. They seemed to both know that a wolf his age had little chance of surviving without the strength of a pack behind him. Even if that pack was filled with similarly aged orphans and runaways.

He stood silent, tail laying flat against his hocks with his gaze averted and, after Rannoch finished laying out his expectations, Redshank remained quiet. His lips formed a slight pout as any child would after being harshly reprimanded. Sol had never done this. In the case of physical punishment, however, Sol would have also aimed to draw blood. He still had the scabs to prove it. "Okay," he said solemnly after a long pause, still refusing to meet the older wolf's gaze. A family. He gagged at the thought. He didn't need a family. He just needed the numbers.