Moonspear Psychological and emotional damages are no longer considered valid claims
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Dragomir hadn't seen Isilmë in a while. That wouldn't have troubled any normal juvenile who was accustomed to time alone and had friends to spend time with, but Drago was neither of these things, so her recent scarcity was keenly felt. Coupled with other discoveries and the lack of substantial food, although he wasn't starving to death, it was a recipe for an exceptionally bad mood. A lifetime ago, Dragomir might have easily bounced back from his negativity with the promise of a game or a hunt, or a run through the woods.

Not today. Today, the only thing that would calm his aggrieved heart was to eliminate the things that caused it. Vercingetorix was dead and gone, a fact Dragomir denied in his heart in spite of knowing in his head. He was gone too soon. He hadn't fully atoned for leaving them in the first place, and for every bit that Dragomir hurt and missed his father, he hated him too, unreasonably, for leaving him. His mother was another matter, one he put from his mind with a huff as he tramped along one of Moonspear's lower ridges. Best not think of her at all. She was equally unreachable right now as his deceased sire.

All he wanted to do was find his sister and take comfort in her presence, but she didn't seem to be around, and the lack of anyone else to talk to about all his fucked up emotions only made his fur ripple with unchecked agitation.