Blackfeather Woods hang your head upon my throne

She had welcomed the new additions with welcome arms, seeing the ebbs and flows in their membership, none staying for long who were not bloodbound to the Woods. She had known that firsthand, with Vandal's scent fading away day by day. It was with a heavy heart that she let him go, the joy that she held along with his memory slowly disappearing along with his scent. She did not see the hatred her son had for the new children until he turned to her. She saw it long before his voice opened to speak, but the words that he hissed angered her rather than frightened her. Imposters? She was offended by the word, for they had not come of their own volition and remained for loyalty's stake. How were they imposters? New blood is what keeps us alive.