Ankyra Sound the thistle and the burr

ingram hadn't thought to elucidate on who her was -- perhaps that was his own fault, and he watched his brother traipse around him with his eyes sunken by adolescent sorrow. not even the pat on his forehead (which was so inadequate in its consolation abilities it was nearly comedic) evinced much affect from the male, who remained as flat and listless as a burst jellyfish on the sunsmattered sand.

up until lusca was mentioned -- ingram's ears flew forward at the same pace a colt might burst from a gate; his brow sunk in a furrow of confusion and he squinted as he jerked his head back with a scoff. her? and then he softened, if only because he missed his mother a little too -- it was enough to overburden the pathetic dam of mental fortitude he had put up to prevent a breakdown, and he heaved another deep, soul-wrenched sigh as lycaon continued on, completely oblivious to ingram's torment.

he might have corrected lycaon on his erroneous assumption were it not for the words that tumbled out from his mouth mere seconds after. ingram snorted back a choked sob, sounding like a whale choking on its own blubber; "no! i don't have her." he half-blubbered, half-wailed, pressing his head between his forepaws as if to block out all thought of chusi and all thought of everything around him, including his brother who had unwittingly twisted the very knife wylla had unintentionally thrust through his heart.

damn, his family sucked. "she left me." he finally explained into the sand, his eyes covered by sandcrusted paws in an expression of grief.