Barrow Fields swiggity swooty

Even Dragomir was taken aback by the brazen way Isilmë spoke; his eyes narrowed on her in a silent plea for her to shut her dumb mouth, but it was too late. Vercingetorix boomed above them and Dragomir felt a spike of resentment for both his sister and his father. He hadn't done anything to deserve being yelled at, but Vercingetorix lumped him in, too. He supposed it made sense. After all, Vercingetorix had done absolutely nothing to deserve his children's respect and everything to lose it, so he sought to command it with fear instead.

If only he knew what a pathetic example of manhood his father was setting by demanding respect in such a fashion after doing everything possible to earn their distrust and anger. Alas, he lowered his head and ears and looked hotly away, giving Vercingetorix the respect he wanted, if only in body language.

Dragomir no longer wished to hear any explanations or excuses about why they had come all the way here just to leave. He shut his ears to his father's logic, his eyes stinging with upset and anger for having been lumped in with his disrespectful sister. He failed to see his own disrespect. After all, he hadn't openly called them stupid, even though like Isilmë, that was the impression he was beginning to form of both of them. I want to go back to Diespor, said Dragomir firmly, pinning his furious gaze on his mother. You should never've made us leave. That was home, not this forest and not the coast where the wolves did bad things but for some reason his parents thought it was a good place for their kids.