Moonspear I wear my long black dress, and a veil of disaster

Dragomir nodded along as Hydra explained why they would need to visit these new bramble-dwelling wolves. It all made sense to him. Diaspora's philosophy was the same, and somewhere far away, Aurëwen might be sad to know that the very lessons she'd sought to remove them from in Diaspora were now being fed to her son on Moonspear's soil, and he was lapping it all up eagerly. Control a whole area and the resources were yours for the taking.

I just don't know where to look anymore, he admitted, willing his sadness to keep out of his voice. He didn't want to crack in front of the pack's matriarch. He didn't want to crack, period, but he often did when he was alone and no one could see. It's like she just... vanished. Maybe that was exactly what Isilmë intended to do, but he couldn't think such things.

Before he could seize upon another topic, any topic to push those ghouls back into the closet, Hydra offered to train. Dragomir pressed his lips together thoughtfully, then said, I never really figured out how to defend a kill. Arcturus always was able to throw me off guard no matter if I tried to attack or just defend. Flicking his tail, the boy fixed his hazel eyes upon her nose and asked, can you teach me how you'd do it?