Firefly Glen pretty brown eyes

Things fell together in rapid succession.

They were joined by a third soon thereafter, a wolf that Dirge had not seen before. Hydra's newest recruit in the last throes of her own wandering, if he had to venture a guess; the newcomer was not spared a pointed leer, but Jarilo's voice saved Kane from the barbed words Dirge did not impart and only swallowed. The obviousness mattered not—a yell distracted him directly after.

This time, the tease of the pines told him all he needed to know. Mal's lot.

His hackles stayed prickled with discomfort at the sight. Dirge couldn't fault the parent in this case—presumably, anyway, there was much of this scene he couldn't quite figure out to place a finger on—but he found humor escaping him with a puff. He appreciated the deadpan delivery of Jarilo then, and let him have his moment in the limelight as he brought his gaze to him.

"It's just Neverwinter returning the favor we gave them," he said smoothly to Jarilo. "When Dragomir and his sister were young, they stole away to there in search of their father. Our response was similar to this, rightly so." Back when Neverwinter was only a thought and had little substance, but Mal had certainly persisted until he succeeded. Respectably he thought, but perhaps not if a child so young had managed to venture so far.

His gaze rounded back on the parent and their child and all the eccentricities once more; it was sharp and stern, now lacking his amusement.

"I'll spare you the lengthy spiel your leader once told us—mind your children and keep them close. This wilderness is not a kind place these days, nor have they been for a time. Better it us that you did find instead of the hunting churls that would prefer to prey on your young."