Blacktail Deer Plateau Hibernation

Guilt continued to seep into the teen as Blue patiently answered the myriad of questions. Valtýr grew quiet thinking of Larus, Jokull, and Mae. Their warm den. The lynx's leering yellow stare. Even though a few months had passed the Sveijarn continued to show signs of incurable trauma. What could have been a happy or ambitious wolf was but a withdrawn and paltry youth — a wilted bloom in a shadow that would likely never grow to its potential magnificence.

Valtýr half listened to Blue's words, lost in a miasma of sudden emotion. Truly, puberty was in full effect. "Uncle, then," he told Blue Willow abruptly, suddenly put off by the idea of having an adopted sibling who wasn't of his own blood. He winced, however, when the boy realized how curt that statement had been. "I don't want a brother," he tried to awkwardly explain, but his words became jumbled and quiet at the end.

Quickly, Val attempted to fix their derailed conversation, "but I... uhm... is Lasher their dad?"