Otatso Wetlands Break free and leave us in ruins

Aware of his own peril, Stag kept quiet.

It surprised him to learn, or to even think, of Wylla begging. For this his stomach soured, to see his best friend, mentor, traveling companion (and so much more, though Stag hardly the words or the balls to say it) reduced to groveling. For this, Mahler earned a hard stare from the male who was hardly a boy on the cusp of manhood.

Learning Takiyok had left too, stung Stag for different reasons. He had no right to feel such as he felt, for he had left his mother -- but the little boy in him bucked at the idea that his mother once again left with another man, hardly more than a stranger in Stag's eyes.

He was being hypocritical, but he was not yet aware. Instead his focus shifted from Mahler to Wylla, measuring her carefully: he would let fangs fly the moment she commanded it, but he understood now was a time for words, not teeth.

How he wanted to butt in with his own hurts, and his own griefs -- but, it was not his time and not his place. Stag's claws clenched in the snow as Mahler half-turned, and his body tensed. For he sensed in Mahler a budding emotion that was too ugly to name, and woefully, felt the stirrings of it growing in himself too.