Fairspell Meadow They're getting close but we don't care

The beast spied him between the trees and moved his way, though Venamis carried on his way. A single obsidian ear remained canted backward, trained on the sound of paws approaching from behind. It was in this moment that he felt a strong sense of vulnerability, of powerlessness in being stalked, and his estranged uncle barked demand that he halt.

He could run, he pondered. Midar was still not entirely himself, lacking the strength he carried in the days of running as Damien's second. The dark youth turned his alabaster-tipped crown to fix his follower with a cool stare. Venamis had never liked him, having found him totally unpleasant, and his raven brow furrowed at the suggestion that they had to talk.

"No we don't," came Ven's flat response, despite the uncomfortable itch to know of his family's fate. In large part, he feared to learn the truth behind their disappearance and this was his reasoning behind his silence on the matter.