Swiftcurrent Creek hexing circles

There was a stubbornness in the set posture of Shardik (Swordfish) that Akavir could not recall having been there. A dull throb began at the man’s temples, signifying a headache—something he found occurring more often as of late than before. Had he simply not noticed the obstinate nature that settled over the youthful man before, or had the world placed a weight upon the boy’s shoulders, much like it seemed to do to so many of them.

HIs lips thinned in a line of disappointment at an outburst—Shardik wishing to see his children, and the brother, he assumed, stepping forward to protect his sister in the best way he knew how.

He was not the jury in this matter, and he sure as hell wasn’t the judge. At least, not yet. And he hoped he did not have to be—hopefully, an amicable agreement would come to pass, or whatever feud would end. Surely, the children should be the ones placed as priority, should they not?

Lestan turned to move with him—but Arlette dismissed Shardik and Etienne stormed away. A soft sigh escaped him, his own muzzle giving a bereft shake. “He might need you right now,” he offered, his eyes drifting from his cousin to study the newly acclaimed father. “Keep him nearby. We will catch up soon,” he offered, wondering if his cousin was even interested in that or not, given all that had transpired between them.