Blackfeather Woods Do you think it's to late for me?

His ears slicked back as if Memory's voice insulted him.
In a way, it did. He was nearly a year old.
Rowan let his lips curl back in a silent snarl, his only warning for now.

The girl seemed to cautiously side with him though. That was something.
He wouldn't offer up anything else other than that name he'd already spoken.
He watched the man, chin tucked, tail curled, fur spiked. He was waiting for him to make a move so he could make his own.