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

I didn't know what to do, was Dragomir's somewhat exasperated reply. As if on cue, his ears flickered toward his nape and his lips turned down at the corners. I told him to stop it. It probably wasn't the answer Hydra wanted, and knowing that made his heart sink. All he wanted to do was impress them—become an impressive beast like them, make his father proud, show his mother what a fool she was for leaving him—but even the simplest of things sometimes seemed insurmountable.

Arcturus was right: Dragomir learned a lot that day, but a lot of that was mired in his persistent low self esteem, so it was difficult to see the light of it at times. I got mad, I kinda lunged at him. I didn't try to bite him, he quickly added, in case the Alpha punished him for hostility toward a pack mate, just... needed him out of my space. He ended the lesson there. Dragomir was not proud of it.

Since then he had tried to think of the best ways to defend a kill, but was left with just as many questions as when Arcturus had issued that challenge to him. He still didn't know what to do.