Firefly Glen an honest man

eee <3 <3 I love your writing too!!! Also I apologize if this is incohesive, I did not read anything over before posting, and my brain is half asleep, so... haha

Merrit was not entirely sure he agreed with her sentiments. True, that names might be forgotten -- his mother, after all, had named a Stone for those who were lost, by choice or by accident. But would he ever forget their names, even those he had never truly known? Stark, Keen, Ezekiel, Ezra, Clary, Sesi... and he supposed his own name fell amongst theirs, now. No, there was far too much to behold in a name to deem such matters irrelevant, unimportant: an identity, a mark of family. His mother had chosen his, and in forsaking his moniker, he scored an unmendable wound through the fabric of who he was. He would always be Merrit, son of Valette, son of Easthollow -- whatever that meant for him now.

But to Hydra, he would be someone new, and the man turned his eyes on her with a spark of curiosity when she began her tale. The words she wove, they resonated in him, and he felt his throat sting as though touched with bile. This creature they sought was no bison or bull, but if the strength of their brutality could spill out as guile, then he feared he faced an opponent much stronger. And did she not seek the death of children? And had his life not felt like a labryinth, in the way it turned its course in ways he had neither expected nor known, corriders brimmed with trouble after trouble to fight and overcome?

"Theseus," he repeated, and his lips quirked up in a ghostly smile. Perhaps it was pretentious, to adopt such a name -- but he had a feeling he was already apart of something bigger, far grander, than he had known when he had fled from Easthollow.

But whatever thread of pleasure had crossed his face at the name she'd bestowed him returned to a face of stone, chipped with a flame of fury that mounted within his breast. "That wretch!" his tail whipped like a serpent behind him, his voice rumbled through clenched teeth. "I will rend her -- " and he quieted his threat, stilled himself. A short silence lapsed between them, and Hydra's words repeated over and over in his mind. How dare those curs drip poison on his mother's name?

Perhaps to rile him had been part of Hydra's plan; yet Merrit was grateful, as sick as the yearning for vengeance turned him. Vengeance? Justice. It did not matter, they had become one in the same. He turned to her without missing a beat, save for the slight pause that had always been characteristic of the man. But his eyes spoke his answer. "I will join your ranks. I will join your fight. This has become more than what I had known it to be."

But there was one thing -- "Easthollow does not train us to fight," he admitted, and he felt that thirst rise again, the one he had first felt when he had encountered Tulimaq. And perhaps this, in part, accounted for his ire against Greyback. It should have been Greyback who sought to pursue the Blackhead, who perceived the threat and rallied the pack. Merrit knew he should be standing alongside Easthollow... but they had done very little. West, and Newt, and Clay... they were all too young, and if Greyback would not step up and take that charge...

Merrit continued, "I trained for a short while with a wolf by the name of Tulimaq, but he disappeared shortly after we began our sessions. I am afraid that what I know comes from informal experience. Train me, and I will fight alongside you."