Dragoncrest Cliffs I knew not to trust, yet I had no choice.

He felt her steely eyes linger on him, and his body tensed beneath her scrutiny. Dacio, despite having grown considerably and fit himself into the role of warrior-in-training, is still very much a child. His paws and ears are still over-sized, his features not yet broadened by adolescence, and he has a great deal of toughening up to do. For now, however, the boy did his best to hide his vulnerability, but Thuringwethil seemed to see right through this guise and, much to Dacio's surprise, she piped up with a very unexpected apology.

His charcoal lobes sprung forward, and grey-green gaze rose to settle curiously on the leader's sable snout. What did she have to be sorry for? Uncertain, the young Gona licked his whiskers. The only wolves who should be sorry were the natrona who'd fled only days before, and broken so many hearts in the proess. Dacio listened intently to what Heda had to say of his strength and, with the sting of emotion behind his eyes, squeezed them shut as he inhaled deeply - because in that moment, he felt weaker than ever.

"They have no pride," he spoke of their disloyal relations; "but they endure, and we must endure."