Bearclaw Valley I know my love can be the killing kind

Evien had a lot to share. The healer's voice was lovely to listen to, kind of soft and inviting, quite unlike the boy's sire. Aventus listened and chewed on his thoughts and tried not to wince whenever pain rippled across his flank. Allies should never attack a child from another pack. Or anyone from another pack.

Am I in trouble? he asked, gazing at Evien for any hint in the man's demeanour, rather than his words, that he would be punished later. Nyra had taught Aventus a valuable lesson: spoken word was not always honest. Sometimes it was altered to soften the blow. Sometimes, in her case, seemingly kind words oozed with contempt and condescension. She'd deserved it. Her words lie.