Swiftcurrent Creek If ever I could love, I think it could be with you.

His youth were older now—they would be entering the adult ranks within a month, and yet the shadowed warrior could not seem to keep them far from his sight for a certain length of time. The night usually found them together—a small comfort he took, that even though Talos was refusing his presence with any form of welcome, she was still seeking a certain amount of time with her brothers.
 
He remained in the darkness under the tall foliage, watching their sleeping forms. They had spoken little of their broken family, as if to draw attention to it would be the final nail in the coffin. But he knew they couldn’t walk on eggshells for much longer—not if they hoped to move forward.
 
Durnehviir’s call caused his spine to stiffen, his gaze to shoot toward the distant borders. A frown clouded his features, and he paused, uncertain what news she would have brought and whether he truly wanted to hear it—the mournful note in her once delicate song did not indicate triumph at finding their son.
 
He was quick to make his way to her, once the shock of her howl had settled away from him. She lay, stooped on the borders in fatigue, and he could see the myriad of inflicted wounds and bite marks upon her lithe body. He had to refrain from sweeping to her side—from collecting her in his embrace and ensuring her that she was safe and within loved arms. It was no longer his place to do so.
 
“Who did this?” It might not have been his place to kiss her pain away, but the lash of his tail and the rolling thunder in his voice made his intention of retribution very clear—he would bring whoever had done this to their god damn knees for even thinking about touching her.