Altar of Twilight my own lived mythology

Permission granted to skip @Alya!

His face turned, thinking of the small twisted messes who lived in the Glen, giggling playfully without a care in the world. It was not them he had an issue with. It was not all of them. And it was not with the savagery and hatred that these three wraiths — and many other packs — had with his family. My grievances with them are not to the intensity of yours, He admits to her. He is already betraying them by leaving. He does not want to be mistaken for a malicious conspirator by them or by his family. But his face twists with silent resignation, knowing for sure who they were speaking about. I know him — my brother,

They didn't send me. No one knows I'm gone, or here of all places. But I will speak for them. I have to explain a lot, so you can either sit through it all or cut me off, They deserved a plea, some kind of explanation to those ignorant of their ways. He knew enough and was well enough in the brain to speak to these wolves and explain himself — to explain them. We...They're religious. My pack. It's a sect of some widespread cult which is just a smaller part of some larger pantheon. The Daedric Gods, they're called. And my pack worship in Mephala — Goddess of murder, sex, secrets...stuff like that. That's why they're so fucked up — well, there's a lot of reasons — He stopped himself, sighing as he began to ramble. It wasn't very often that he lost control of his words. He shook his head. And I was going to be trained as a priest, but I...lost faith? Not sure if I ever had it — but they haven't been too fond of me since. My mother's high priestess and all of my family believes in the Gods to some degree but I don't. I've been looking for an excuse to leave. And here's my chance — saving my hide. He speaks the words with some nugget of self-loathing, because he still considered them as family. But he could not live there anymore. He did not belong, and he had merely been hanging around. Anything else you want to know, you can ask — or just kill me. That's fine too. He resigned himself to death or some immense pain, knowing that if it was not to come for him at the Woods, it would come to him from an outsider, someone who smelled the thick blood-and-feathers scent that he carried deep in his fur. It felt unnatural and yet right at the same time, this submission of his own life to another wolf.