Blackfeather Woods Following the Trail

Since the horrific sight, the pile of innards all bloodied and marking Burr's death, Mawk had fallen into a silent mask of coldness. The bitter taste burned at his tongue and puddled into a pit in his stomach, mind clouded and hazy. It was as if an arrow had struck his chest, piercing his heart and he was not sure how to cover the hole that endlessly bled. The grief had hit him hard, and words escaped him the moment his gaze had set upon the scene. Since then, he had not uttered a sound. Not even when Illecebra gently nudged his shoulder with her nose as a gesture of comfort - there was guilt, too, for he longed desperately to nuzzle into his mate's neck but found himself unable to.

The group were following the trail, and the man's body became even more tense than it had previously been when he started to recognise this land and the scents of blood that surrounded it. Blackfeather fuckers. Immediately a dangerous glint sparked in his fiery eyes, a longing to seek revenge on the damned night wolves who had taken so much from his family - he knew, he knew that revenge did not solve anything, this conflict was sure to only bring pain, but his loyalty was cursing him for not acting upon the Blackfeather wolves the moment they had stolen his other son.

It took a moment for him to recollect his thoughts, a sharp twinge of anger, of pain and guilt filling his chest and causing his eyes to momentarily close to wallow in the darkness. Mawk had to remain calm. When Illecebra spoke, his gaze snapped to the other wolves and his curled tail lashed as best it could. At last, for the first time since the knowledge of his boy's death, the man's jaws opened to allow words to pass, though these words were spoken quietly. "We must be patient. We cannot rush into violence. We do not want to cause more harm to our family and become a main target."