Hushed Willows this common blood ii

Although Orlaith's answer was cruel, it was the first thing that seemed to get through to him. He reeled back a fraction, looking up at the larger wolf with a stricken, wounded expression on his young face. No one had ever said something so hurtful to him, and especially no one who knew so little about him. Immediately, he was aware of what an offensive and pitiful spectacle he was making of himself, and picked himself up in a shaky, mechanical motion. His bewildered gaze landed on Lumiya for only a moment before he regained some semblance of control over his features and twisted them into something that was not quite as simple or helpless.

No, he said, his voice hoarse from overuse. No — I can still hunt. His voice was wooden; his words rote. I just need to be alone.

He didn't; he felt alone enough already. More completely than he'd previously thought possible. But while Lumiya's concern had been a sweet balm on his soul, the stranger's lack of understanding was a cold dose of reality. His mother and father were dead; these wolves did not know him. As long as he was here, he was alone.