Tuktu Hinterlands Oh heart doth broken

Safe in the cradle of her arms, he settled against her, as though settling into the gentle rock of a hammock, or an old porch swing. Primrose was like her- when prompted to explain something, he was a wellspring of words and emotions, which poured freely from him like water tipped from a vase. Unsteady as he was, he still informed his mother of what had happened- and she maintained a calm visage while her honeyed gaze was pointed off into the distance, no doubt boring a fiery hole into whatever tree it happened to land on. 

She was glad to hear that his opinion of the Kingslend wolves had changed as it now suited her own tastes for the wolves so she didn't feel as though she would need to discourage him or even necessarily punish him for going to their lands. All she would need to do would be to sympathize with him, and reinforce this new realization he had. At first, it seemed fairly harmless- patrolling guards had stolen his flowers, which wasn't necessarily harmful but inconsiderate nonetheless. A much bigger deal to the child than it was to his mother, of course, but if the Déorwines saw fit to terrorize a child who strayed to their borders then they were certainly not safe. 

And when Prim mentioned that they had dared to scruff him, she had to tighten her lips to keep her fangs concealed. She didn't care to consider that perhaps Primrose had overstepped his boundaries- the child was as dangerous as a daisy-chain, and scruffing such a harmless child was, in her opinion, excessive force. Unacceptable. With Primrose huddled against her, she was able to inspect the flaxen, featherlight fluff at the back of his neck- and concluded that at least they hadn't grabbed him hard enough to puncture the skin but still...They'd leapt to use physical force before using words, and she knew that if they had bothered to even look at Primrose with an evil eye, he would've been knocked over like a playing card tower under a puff of breath. Why they'd seen it appropriate to grab him was beyond her, and means for discussion with the others. 

"How awful," She said, a low growl in her voice as she protectively gave him a gentle squeeze. "Primrose, darling...I think you are right about Cenric, and I know how much it hurts when someone seems kind, but ends up showing their true, ugly nature," She said. She should know- she was just that sort of wolf herself. "It was very nice of you to pick flowers for him, and they were wrong to steal those from you and they should not have touched you. It is never okay for anyone to touch you if they aren't someone you know and trust." She said. "We use physical force only for those who do not listen to words, or those who might be dangerous. And I know my son, and you are neither." She said, smoothing the fur between his ears with a brush of her muzzle. 

She breathed in deeply. She felt fairly certain she could trace the scent of the male who'd scruffed Primrose, but she had only a memory of his face and the guess that the same sour-faced male who'd met her in the Glad had been the very same one who'd grabbed her son. But she'd need a name. "Your Mama will sort this out...But I'll need your help. Do you remember the names of the other two, who met you at the borders, darling?" She enquired, with the ominous tone of a sculptor asking for the names needed to be carved into gravestones.