Whitefish River Vote correctly or never see your loved ones again

The boy misinterpreted Vercingetorix's smile for humor and thwacked his tail against the ground with a sharp, it's not funny! Maybe a man who willingly left his family behind could find something to laugh about in Aurë's pathological need to leave on personal excursions while her children suffered her absence, but there was nothing humorous about it to Dragomir. He'd had quite enough of his parents' irresponsible, selfish attitudes and was of half of mind to up and leave them both the second his legs were better.

Except Vercingetorix was actively trying to do better, not that that was saying much for a father who walked out on you when you were a baby. Wasn't hard to do better than that. Dragomir, who ordinarily boasted a pretty long fuse for his anger, fought to control his temper when Vercingetorix made his next wild claim. She doesn't love us, the boy snapped with a ferocity that Vercingetorix might recognize as his own Trikru fire. If she loved us she wouldn't keep leaving us and acting so sad when she's around us. Because boy oh boy, had he noticed that lately. With little else to do but lie around and observe, Dragomir had noticed a lot of things that ordinarily may have bypassed his attention.

By now his ears were slicked back against his scalp and his eyes burned on Verx, but his anger was directed primarily at Aurëwen—more specifically, her wanderlust and the impossibility of containing such a thing. Perhaps one day when he was older and had roaming paws of his own, Dragomir might understand better. That's why you don't talk anymore, he quietly suggested, 'cause she doesn't love us or you enough, so you're mad at her. He was completely wrong, but that's what he thought.