Heron Lake Plateau now i’m free from what you are

Unconcerned at first by the ominous witch-call, Svalinn had taken his sweet time in investigating what could turn out to be the death of his mother, for lack of a better term. He came upon the scene casually— ignoring the waves of hostility permeating the atmosphere— until he saw that nearly every bared tooth and rippling pelt was directed at Caiaphas. The most egregious of mistakes.

His reaction thereafter was blind; a golden spear darting to his surrogate's flank like an embattled Roman. Lankiness detracted from his overall menace, but the way his fur stood on end, and the manic look in his eye, promised those riotously congregated that he would die before he let anyone harm a hair on her head in front of him.

Ears back, chin tucked, the boy snorted— obstinate despite his shrieking fear.