The Sentinels Bravery only means something to those afraid of death.

Safety, an illusion. She was right about that, he supposed. Dacio had thought he'd always known safety on the cliffs until Rusalka's invasion amid the storm, how they'd robbed him of a mother, of Heda. At times he'd thought them doomed, cursed, yet still his heart longed to be there where he was sure he belonged. That stubborn part of him that couldn't quite let go of what once was, despite all the sacrifices he'd had to make to survive.

He was a fool, but a loyal fool.

Raleska's attention was drawn to the wound of his limb, and so too followed his own. Grey-green eyes sought it in the darkness, found the glimmer of puncture wounds that oozed from the wear of his coastal roaming, and swept his tongue across the markings to soothe the reminding sting. "Someone attacked my pack-mate," he answered, content to settle there with her for a time and grateful for her offering to do so, no matter the awkwardness of it all. "He is just a boy, not yet a yearling. I had to protect him." An exhale as he sank his haunches to the ground, still wondering how to tackle the tension that continued to hang between them.

"I know that I haven't done only good in my life, Raleska," he said, "but I always believed that your family ruined mine, and I've tried to do best by those few I have left. For what it's worth, I'm sorry that things had to be as they were." Apologies had never been easy for Dacio, who glanced away into the never-ending night that enveloped the woods. It was all he could offer, really, to smooth out the future after a lifetime of hate and resentment.