Dragoncrest Cliffs I put my hands in the fire

Rosalyn felt her anger rise in response to her son's and it was hard controlled.  She did not appreciate the whining lilt to his words.  You are not children. She answered, trying to keep her tone patient.  Both were near to a year grown and soon might have siblings to worry about.  They needed to accept their new place in the pack.  And adults do not sulk.  She turned her gaze to Chacal, then sighed, and tried to smooth some of the harshness from her.

Her patience was so frayed, of late.  She was tired.

You were both welcome to race.  It was your decision not to. Still looking at her daughter, whether her gaze was met or not.  It was your choice to turn your nose at the chance, and if you believe you deserved first choice, you are welcome to prove it.  So far Rosalyn had seen little of Chacal's desire to rise.  Valravyn's too, though she didn't question Erzulie's placements.  Njord and Merlin were older and both had led hunts in recent past; Haunt was proving herself an asset as well, in short order.  Her brother had impressed Rosalyn in doing what her own children had spurned.  It wasn't her voice that harmed Chacal's chances, but the way she had allowed this to drive her from participating within the pack.  It was unfair... but it was all the pirate knew.

We are a pack of the sea, whether you like it or not.  Even the newcomers understand this.  She studied them both, wondering if this would only make them angrier.  There is no shame in not racing.  There is shame, however, in turning your back to the rest of the pack and asking me why you were not given the chance.

Silence.  Her tail twitched, but other than that she was still, waiting for a response.  For better or (as was her assumption) for worse.