Moonspear And Smitten the Nightingale had Become.

arcturus licked his lips as the remains settled in his stomach. ot was a meal he was not fond of, but luckily he was a wolf driven by instinct, and set into the final corpse with absent-minded obedience to nature's whims. while his sister expanded on their reasoning for driving zafina from the keep, he made short work of the last puppy.

never in his life had arcturus expected to consume the flesh of his own kind -- he did not think of how wrong it seemed socially, until he had swallowed the last grim bone. he hoped he would not have to ever do this duty again - it felt strange and wrong to him. hydra's mention of their last tense incident had arcturus feeling somewhat prickly. a shudder of revulsion climbed his back, partially as he felt his burgeoning stomach protest its new burden. he still had his own feelings to sort out about that day; charon had cut clean through him with his hostility, but the fervent manner of all (including hydra) had him still on edge.

"mhm." the boy responded in textbook chatterbox form, rubbing his chin against his leg as if to wipe clean the sullied taste of wolf-pup on his tongue. there were a manner of questions he wished to ask (like why couldn't you control your own heat? truthfully, this seemed like a woman's problem) but he kept silent for now, his instinct clashing with his conscience and ultimately coming out on top.