Broken Antler Fen i don't care if the sun don't shine

arcturus’ puzzled albeit polite expression fizzled out the moment the boy turned, demonstrating a raze of disorganized fur demarking an old scar.

given, allegedly, by him.

arcturus’ gaze darkened to something cold and pitiless. bit by bit this memory was coming back; of he and hydra (—dead, oh how that hurt) coming down the mountain. he’d been softer then. cam had only earned the mountaineer’s pursuit — in these days, he was much more likely to earn teeth.

how hydra’s words echoed in his head; trespassers do not get mercy.

you trespassed. you are lucky you did not get killed. arcturus countered, feeling a sense of imperfect iciness slip to his heart. it hurt too much to grieve; instead, he would be angry. angry at the world, at his life, at cam for insinuating he was of some evil bent for protecting his home. his chin lifted ever so slightly as he waited for whatever response cam provided.