Wapun Meadow in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

A criminal.

A monster.

Just as had happened to him and his siblings so long ago, his own children were now forced to be divided. It was the reality of his worries; he had wanted so desperately to ensure that his children would never be faced with the same sense of longing that he had, and yet, that is exactly what was to befall them. His lips curled back as he stared at his former mate, taking a daring step forward—but he did not continue, he did not follow through. For as much as he despised what was happening, how history had come to repeat itself, he would not give his children a reason to fear him. Hardly a second passed before his expression was righted, neutrality reigning whilst his inner self fought a battle most fierce.

“NapvakKunga ipvit, Yakone,” the male stated; that the words were his and his alone to understand, that only made them more important to him. He did not follow after them that day, he saw no point; whilst he did not doubt himself, he’d been forced to mature as of late, and knew damn well that he could not risk the safety of two of his children in order to take back another. With one last, long glance at his daughter, Alexander turned and motioned for both Nunataq and Marten to follow. “Let’s go home, then,” he muttered, ushering them ahead of him so that he could watch. That he was not returning with all three of them did not sit well with him but, he reminded himself, he would do no good taking action now.

He would wait, he would watch, he would plan—and then he would strike.