Bearclaw Valley So you say I'm complicated

The news that his father was now in charge of the woods was interesting, to say the least. He felt almost safer now, knowing that the man that had raised him was in charge of a home he once loved, now so long ago. He wondered, however, if Cicero was still around—this he did not ask, the answer one that he did not desire as greatly as one might think (ignorance is bliss, after all). The words that followed were not nearly as shocking, however—Kove had not forced his own flesh and blood to stay, so why would he have done so to a girl he had no familial ties to? Although, the compliment had a glare settling back into his gaze, only to disappear likely before being noticed; he cared for his father, truly, but hearing compliments aimed towards the elder Inuk whilst growing up made him rather bored when hearing yet the same words now that he was an adult.

And with adulthood, it seemed, came the capability of being forgotten.

Alexander was not angry that his existence was unknown, not when it came to the wolves of the woods; he knew not which of them, if any, sided with the patchwork devil, and wished not to risk being discovered by his minions. “That’s not surprising,” he noted, bitterness seeping into his tone despite his best efforts being put towards the opposite. “So, you left the woods because you didn’t feel at home—do you plan to do the same thing here? Leave if things don’t go your way?” Harsh, perhaps, but Xan wasn’t exactly known for having a filter.