Whitefish River you're the truth that's breaking me and keeping me together

Charles expected his brother to snap at him. He'd seen those maddened eyes. He expected to return home bloodied and broken, if at all. But while his brother's initial rage had left some of his body smarting with pain, the dive that he expected didn't happen. He didn't dare look up even in the absence of pain and remained curled up on the ground, paws folded over his face, until his brother's cold voice commanded him to get up.

It was so familiar, and yet so far away. Would his brother love him if he did what he was told, now? Why didn't it feel like before? It was supposed to feel good, supposed to feel better, now — but instead of feeling better, all Charles felt was a hollow emptiness that nothing seemed able to fill.

He choked away a sob — god, he was so pathetic — as he finally pulled himself from the ground. He couldn't even feel exactly which parts of his body were aching, other than the place where he'd hit the ground. He couldn't feel whether the pain in his ear, on the side of his face, on his shoulder and his flank were from places he'd been bitten or if it was just the impact of the throw, or some sort of weird memory pain.

Riley, please, I'm your brother— he tried, wanting so badly to be accepted and loved by his family. But he could hear and see from the way Riley stood and talked that his doors were closed. Charles stood shaking on his feet, bruised and battered and tail curled between his hind legs instinctively, not unlike many times before in their youth; Riley and Laurel were the ones who had taught him submission. He would give up his toys and his friends for Riley's sake, always. Now, though, he was being asked to give up Riley, and that was what made this so different from every time before. Everything about Charles' instincts told him to listen to Riley — as a pup, he always listened to Riley — and run, run, run! But his heart told to hold on, because he wasn't ready yet to lose his brother for good.

But his brother did not listen, and as Riley turned towards the territory he lived in, Charles had to consider whether or not it would be worth it to pursue him.

By the time he had chosen Riley was gone and the emotion had subsided somewhat. The pain of his smarting wounds and bruises was starting to settle in. With a sad frown on his face he turned away, back to Firefly Glen to lick his wounds.