Blackfeather Woods the world is not enough

"Shhh!" he irrationally hissed at Potema and he looked around, though he saw no one. As he looked round the Blackfeather territory he realised it was irrational to think that any of his own wolves had followed and would be able to hear. He knew he had treaded too deeply into the mud then, but he stayed anyway to listen to Potema's stammers, to watch the guilt on her face. So the child was hers, and he was someone else's. Was he — Could he be Flóki's? The safer choice in his head was to think that he was Jorunn's.

Before he could speak again the child in question came crashing onto the scene, chest puffed and body held as though he owned the place. Charon instinctively raised his body, tail curling over his back and lashing tensely while he revealed teeth in warning. "Whose is he?" Charon demanded with voice dipped in anger as he looked at Potema, finding himself engulfed in his desire to know who the child was rather than the solution to his pack's problem.

She addressed the child in the meantime, and when she finished Charon asked, his voice cool and business-like, "Did you have personal problems with this wolf?" He wanted to know because he could understand it if he did. It happened. He'd had personal problems with wolves — and Charon would be better able to understand what went on in the mind of the child. However, considering the way he had crashed onto the scene and the way he held himself Charon wondered if this boy did not simply have a taste for destruction and did not care who he dragged down with him for it.