Lone Star Mountain just a stoic statue, fit for a nobody

ezra looked like anselm, skaigona realized with a start. his father's build was undeniable, even with the spilling crest of bright red over his spine and his head.
but where gideon's eyes had been the softness of an innocent curiosity, ezra's had become harder. implacable. and as he spoke, she saw anselm in the way even his voice sounded now.
what sort of birthright had they given him?
they were indeed being watched, and that one unseen would see the iron flash of her eyes before she turned them away to their search.
leading him into a stand of birch, she reared to tug low branches, rewarded by a falling nest. the eggs were left to ezra; skaigona pounced on a sleepy nuthatch and dispatched it quietly.
one bird and three eggs was a start. the next opportunity for those branches she gave to her son, motioning him forward in the dark.