Fox's Glade why, why, why? to help my family?

Svalinn— who did not share the violent impulsiveness of his adoptive family and was not some rage-blind defender— immediately became less volatile at his mother's coarse command. Though trained by the best, and accustomed to roughhousing, the golden vandal truly wanted no part of fighting with outsiders, and it made him easy to rein in. He skidded to a halt before the salt-and-pepper she-wolf, stalled if his would-be opponent managed to hold back as well, and he tucked his chin with a warning snarl for good measure.

He made himself into a furry-brick wall between her and Caiaphas, fiery eyes trained with blistering animosity on the potential threat, even as he finally realized there was another there too.

I could help.

Svalinn could barely spare the other male a glance, frowning, but the rumble in his chest hit an uncertain pitch. Do I still chase them both off? What if he can save my Mama? He certainly wanted these wolves gone, but he also definitely needed help. His mother needed help— more than he could give. But... "We don't trust you." Do we have a choice?