Whitefish River this is how we heal:

Niron.

He froze, stiffening, staring at her. Again, and still, she fancied themselves. . .star-crossed lovers? Soulmates? And again, he felt helpless, put in the position to explain to her that any love he once might have felt had waned, and might not ever return. Their relationship had been built on lust -- heady stuff, sure, but nothing he'd describe as love.

No, he loved his children only, and perhaps select members of the family he'd never see again, and as she teased --

Prepare me? Vercingetorix shot back at last, emerging from his stupefied state. He meant the remark to be light-hearted, but there was acid in it he couldn't bury. You do realize I've trained as a warrior since I was this small, right? he continued, holding up one paw, toes splayed, in illustration. Funny that you think you're up for the challenge of preparing me.

There was the anger, now, all of the rage he felt for his bad decisions, hers, the horror of Drago's injuries. . . No, I'm not game, the brute spat, ears flattening. I'm going to go find the monster that nearly destroyed our son, and I'm going to rip them apart. And I'll do so without any sort of preparation, whatsoever, because that's what I've been trained to do and that's what I was born to do. To kill, Aure. To fucking kill.

He began to stalk away, shoulders hunched, before turning back to stare at her with eyes much closer to fire than ice. Give up on me, Aurëwen, Verx said. You deserve better than someone who will never love you the way you want.

Exit scene.