Moonspear Dreamland, I need you

Dragomir had nothing more to add, and listened to the exchange between Arcturus and Mal with interest. He didn't miss the pointed look Mal shot at him right after mentioning a wolf who went around attacking young wolves and, no longer thinking of himself as just a kid, he couldn't help taking it as a personal insult. Having been attacked in his youth and having lived through more terror and torment than most his age, he couldn't believe any wolf would even think that he was capable of attacking kids—which is precisely what he took Mal's look to mean. He was very careful to control his expression then, and only barely succeeded.

He flicked them back to Simmik, then quickly away when he realized she was glaring daggers at him. What the hell, he might've asked if not for the Beta now commanding the attention of all gathered. This was his home. If he was allowed to act like he was above anyone anywhere, it was here. Especially when one of those someones had treated him so poorly, or at least that's what he thought, but clearly neither of their visitors agreed. Not understanding where that blazing fury in her orange eyes was coming from, Dragomir turned away from her and resolutely refused to look at her again.

At least Mal had useful information for them. Dragomir, for his part, knew nothing about either of the men Mal mentioned. The description of the first didn't match Sanguinus—had he been more attentive at the time he might've connected the appearance with his shadowy accomplice, but she was certainly not male and he had never noted the colour of her eyes in the low light of the cave—and the second didn't fit, either. The pair had been quick to resort to physical violence. They'd had a lasting effect on his psyche as well, but the physical wounds were bad, too. Neither of them was a mere psychological predator like Mal was suggesting.