Wapun Meadow botchlings

without sympathy he looked over the shrinking she-wolf, his smokey frown ironing out to a dispassionate sneer as he noted long legs, greys and silvers, and burn marks - something he had only seen once before in his life and just as it had then, the sight left him with a distant despair for the devastation he knew to be fire. the wolf he had known with such injuries had been much worse off, however. stigmata thought her lucky, if nothing else; a withdrawn creature with potentially understandable reasons, but lucky nonetheless.

"you must not be a very close sister, mistaking me for him," he accused her airily with a now typical level of annoyance. the fact that she was of lost creek hollow almost didn't register to him, and the information that she was so closely related to the wolf she had mistaken him for only made him sigh. stigmata only thought about that place when it was brought up to him, like now, and otherwise they didn't exist in his purview. he had no ill-thoughts of them, or thoughts of them at all really, he only knew that he hadn't wanted to be injected into their dynamic without cause, and they kept showing up anyway.