Ankyra Sound and welcomes little lasses in

there was a good chance that svalinn gave illidan more credit than he had earned, based solely on the idea that he resembled their mother a great deal in coloration. there were many things that the creamy boy had learned that had turned him into an eyjolfur – things that the wildling had missed entirely during his stay with the wolves of the plateau. the hooded man had learned more about thoughtfulness than he ever would have beneath the quick whip and sharp tongue of his blood mother. now, that didn't mean those lessons had actually taken hold of the boy; just that he had been given an opportunity to learn from them.

when his brother spoke of the cliff wolves having taken one of their own, illidan furrowed his brows. instinct curled his lip over a dagger-like canine, and the hairs along his neck and shoulders seemed to rise further than they already were in a natural state. “we're going to retrieve her, are we not?” illidan demanded of his brother with a quick glance toward the younger wolf. in the sharp yellow of his gaze was a fire, doused in gasoline and burning with a rage he had long since put to bed.