Swiftcurrent Creek A sons grief

Sometimes her protectiveness amused him, even served him well. But lately, he had no patience for it. And when her dive sent the she-wolf fleeing, Etienne shouting in her wake, Cambria couldn’t help the sharp growl that rolled out of him.

Wyvern! he bellowed as the nightjar flapped just out of reach of Etienne’s bared teeth. Stop.

She heeded the command in the Dragonling’s voice, though perhaps didn’t take it well; she flew away to the east with an irate squawk. Cambria’s eyes followed her, then flicked over to Etienne, then just past him. He saw no sign of his companion, so his gaze quickly returned to that familiar face.

Sorry, he said almost irritably, then caught himself and repeated more softly, Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen. Should you go after her…?