Arrow Lake I don't know what I'm doing half the time

The two children were about a month apart and there wasn't much of a size difference; maybe Mesa was larger because his parents were large warrior-types, and he'd inherited some height, but in the long run it wouldn't make a difference. One month didn't translate to much. The boy was all posture, trying to mimic what he'd witnessed of his fellow wolves, or what he'd been taught. For a split second he wondered, what would Stigmata do? He raised his head, puffed up a bit, and stalked around the stranger with his teeth bared - and then she spoke, her voice soft and incomplete, faltering from nerves. There was that feeling again: a swell of power, and he chased that feeling, letting himself act out the role of defender as his father would've wanted.

This is Diaspora, the biggest, strongest pack of the biggest, strongest wolves! You can't be here, you are too small. He sneered at her through his teeth, and paced around her like a vulture looking for an easily accessible chunk to grab at. What are you doin' here? Where's your mommy? Boy, it felt so good, so empowering, to have all the control and the power in that moment. He could've attacked her outright if he'd thought of it - but she was tiny and scared, and there were limits to the child's imagination.