Hushed Willows Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

He had heard from Reverie's own mouth of the mission she'd given to Reina and Tybault. Tybault, of all wolves! While he had not thrown a fuss, he fumed in the moments he stole away for himself. Not against his sister, though he doubted her call, but in pre-mature judgment on his brother. His brother, who was about as qualified to represent Hearthwood to the neighbouring packs as a rabid raccoon. How could Everett forget the day he and Evander had found Tybault, butt bleeding, at Duck Lake? Or the sharpness of his tongue which had only ever sent Reverie running away? There was a reason he stood in Boone's place, after all, and not Tybault.

They were dark thoughts, vile thoughts - and yet, he thought them nonetheless. Everett knew he should forgive his brother, as he had been forgiven, but forgiveness was easy talk and much harder to live out now that he came face to face with what it meant in action.

One day. But today, he sat by the lake, and tried to make sense of his rolling mind. Disgusted with himself. Unable to stop.

That was how Reina would find him when she called him to the Caverns, and he rose to meet her there. Maybe the walk would clear his mind.

But no, he discovered. His paws could carry him away, but his thoughts only felt heavier, worse.

Hello, Reina, he said, quiet when he dipped inside the heart of Hearthwood. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, his voice betrayed nothing of the conflict he felt. I heard from Reverie. About your mission.

He would leave it at that for her to carry. Anymore, and he would spill.