Blackfeather Woods I'll stop wearing black when they make a darker colour

She let out a sigh, but one of sorrow this time, not anger. The dispassion Ramsay displayed was something she'd acquire later in life, but for now, she was an angst-filled girl, with questions constantly dripping from her tongue and plaguing her mind. She didn't understand how he couldn't care. How could he not? About any of this?

"I don't want her," Maegi said firmly, her jaw tight. She shrugged, sitting down on her haunches, the right forepaw, as usual, dangling a few ungainly inches higher than the other planted on the ground. She had hoped that perhaps her crooked leg would right itself as she aged, but it hadn't come to be. She still limped and plodded.

Breathing deep, she tried to let the tension go from her neck and shoulders, instead offering her brother a timid smile. "I haven't seen you in days," Maegi murmured, looking Ramsay over. Like her, he had not grown out of his stunted nature; it seemed even more prominent, actually, as he got older. Nevertheless, he looked well enough; his eyes had turned to indigo, his small face maturing to something you could call handsome, if it wasn't attached to a body with no neck at all.

"How are you? What have you been doing?"