Twisted Slough how neatly spreads his claws

Following this thread.

For a long while after being "escorted" from the Redhawks premises, Svalinn took up an irascible pace and forged forward in confident lead of the banished Eyjolfur troupe. Born of his natural, and recently sharpening intuition, he began towards the coast like a homing pigeon, bearing with him little to no understanding of what had just transpired in his former pack. He could conclude nothing of the situation for himself except that every fang shown to his mother had been unjust. And it was this bias— perhaps the same breed of bias that had found them ousted— that gave him the indignant prance he proceeded with now; for in his mind was seeded a thick root of assurance that @Caiaphas could do no wrong.

Raleska's presence only solidified the boy's guard-march, as he needed both her support and the task of protecting her to feel useful, and knowing that both she-wolves were behind him compelled the golden child to progress onward without thought. The sky was darkening, and the terrain ahead had continued to grow thick and more perilous before he remembered their densite on the plateau, and the particularly cushy life they were leaving behind...

He slowed until he came shoulder-to-shoulder with the hooded ursula, and he huffed. "What happened back there anyway?" he bellyached. "Why'd we have to leave instead of them?"