Stone Circle maybe it wasn't our fault

cyron feels a small amount of relief, a loosening in his chest as she assures him that he handled it wonderfully. idly, he wondered if she would feel the same if she'd been there to witness it and the words that they exchange; but she didn't and cyron wasn't going to tell her that he had his feelings hurt by a insignificant stranger. he'd thought he'd been brave when he escaped blackfeather woods but ...perhaps it hadn't been bravery at all. perhaps it'd been cowardice. that was what the stranger had more or less insinuated: that he was cowardly because he could not overcome, because his mind, so young and vulnerable, was re-wired to suit his captor's purposes. cyron hates that some man whose name he doesn't even know had that much influence on him. no, no he wasn't a coward. he was brave. if he wasn't he would not be here, back in easthollow, speaking with it's alpha. "i should have called for you or one of the guardians but i — i didn't want him lingering." cyron offers apologetically. he'd already explained why he hadn't wanted him lingering on the borders and didn't feel the need to be redundant.

he nods but offers nothing else verbally as she assures him that she'll tell nanook and the other guardians to keep an eye out for the stranger and blackfeather woods. "he was skinny, black with blue eyes and some grey on his face and ears," cyron tells her, not remembering if there were any other distinguishing marks. it might be hard to distinguish him from any other blue eyed wolves with a black pelage, though he hopes the greying part might help a bit. cyron cringes a bit as he says 'skinny' because the rawboned saefyn isn't necessarily one to talk. "he wasn't very submissive. he kept looking me in the eyes and challenging with body language." he struck cyron as defiant though whether it was because of cyron's age or not the boy couldn't tell. his age shouldn't have been too tell-tale aside from that he was at least a year old if only because cyron is very nearly indistinguishable from any other adult now but that was neither here nor there at this point. still, it seemed prudent to include any details he had to help valette and the guardians identify him.

his ears flutter back to slick against his skull as she inquires about if he wants to be a mercenary and offers her sister as a mentor. "i — i," he swallows thickly and looks away from her. "i don't know. i mean, i want to be able to fight but ..." he licks his lips, wincing as his tongue draws across his ruined mouth. "i'll think about it." he decides. he doesn't want to hurt anyone but on the opposite side of that coin he doesn't want anyone to be able to hurt him. he'll do what he has to, to make sure that no one ever again twists and breaks him the way blackfeather woods did.