Otatso Wetlands and if i catch it coming back my way, i'm gonna serve it to you

Akavir swore again, which brought the alabaster ranger's ears forward. The sharp word was repeated with greater ferocity following a lashing of an ebony paw at the sodden ground, and Viinturuth eased his stride to a halt. Focus remained firm on his brother's face as his champagne gaze rose to met burgundy and for the most fleeting of moments, he swore he saw their mother's fierce eyes glowering his way.

It'd been difficult to be a child of the wildfire Durnehviir - more so when her relationship with their father had been so uncertain. Despite the years and distance that'd been placed between mother and son, Viinturuth often thought of his miserable youth and the dragoness' harsh expectations of her brood.

He blinked, and rooted himself once more. Akavir looked like a feral thing with his fangs clacking and guard hairs stood erect, though Viinturuth inhaled deeply. You are trying to protect them, he said gently, and was admirable of it, and it's okay to be pissed. I'd be kicking you if you weren't, considering the circumstances. He braved a step closer. But we need to be realistic. There may never be closure. There may never be justice for Moss.