Ravensblood Forest the tree who cried crimson

“Perhaps Derg will suffer another gut-wrenching injury.” derg pls

…Ah. Finley listened with keen interest as Derg laid out his story, and from the first sentence alone: he’d hunted the attacker of his ward? An ear getting torn in a fight was vicious if understandable, but clearly the times had changed this wolf. Or he was hiding more, much more, than met the eye. Subconsciously Finley slowed her walk, still relatively close to Derg but increasing the distance, should he choose to turn these hidden strengths onto her.

But the second part was what really made Finley’s eyes widen. A wolf had done that!? “Wh-what kind of Alpha…?” She was floored by a grotesque mix of shock and horror and awe. To serve under a wolf with that strength was straight-up admirable, but to protect them only to have one’s face torn off…. No sane canine did something like that. And Finley could not fathom how leaving such a mark could have been a mistake. (It did not occur to her that she may have been conflating, quite mistakenly, “my Alpha” and “she,” Derg’s attacker.)