Sleepy Fox Hollow Looks like they're wanting out.

It broke Anselm's heart to see his father leave after the trail of his mother. He imagined as the dawn's golden light gave way to a crisp autumn sky, that his home had grown a little colder.

But Anselm could not leave. @Emmerich was out there, and the day he came back to the Hollow and saw his parents and brother gone would break him. Of this Anselm knew - so he vowed to stay behind, and wait.

He dreamed of the day he walked down a green path towards the face of his father; the watchful eye of his mother. He kissed @Ilse, and laughed --

but that was a dream, and dreams had a way of fading with the waking light and leaving your stomach knot and ice to sink its way into your heart. Anselm knew better than to waste his life on dreams.

He was practical.

Strong.

His day and hour would come, someday.

For now he sprawled across the same rock he'd seen @Etienne sleep upon so many times, slants of sunlight warming the back of his fur as autumn's chill slowly crept in.

Etienne played with the thought of not staying and yet. He couldn't leave Anselm yet
Regardless.

He would stay as long as he was welcome or until he could no longer take the abuse that Anselm felt so keen upon dealing out.

He traced pathways through the pack lands. A bloodied rabbit in his maw. On his way to a cache when he caught sight of Anselm on the rock he loved to lay upon himself.

He settled to his haunches nearby the rabbit placed in a nearby cache. He said nothing for what was there to say?

I'm sorry, are you okay? none of that he felt would be received well.

Along the breeze came the scent of blood first; Anselm's nose twitched and he shifted, squinting towards the wildwood. Hare -- and Etienne.

Anselm propped himself upon his elbows. What kind of irony was it that Anselm had ridiculed Etienne for abandoning his family not even several days before -- and now here he was, his family splintered, and Etienne all that remained.

The cruel irony of it twisted in his gut like a knife. A white hot anger, barbed and its arrow notched -- to the boy that left,

to the boy that saved him,

to the boy that stayed --

His feet gathered underneath him. Anselm sprung from the rock like a loosened and furious arrow. It hurt his body to move so quickly, but boiled in his blood and bled him of senses. VHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?? He roared, teeth bared as he flung himself towards Etienne in anger.

Only to find with each step he took closer, the anger drained from him -- until he was left feet from Etienne, the wave of wrath now a puddle washing out beneath his feet.

Etienne knew that he was playing with fire. And yet here he was. He hadn't left. He had stayed.

Eti was surprised and then immediately on guard as Anselm jumped from the rock. But he said nothing. Merely tightened his body and waited for a blow that miraculously didn't come.

A small twitch in his nose. Ears askance and he was unsure. Golden eyed gaze on Anselm. He twitched moved as if he was going to step forward and stopped. Muzzle down.

Do you be wantin' me to leave?

Every part of Anselm commanded he strike Etienne. Look at him, the ugliness of his mind said -- pathetic!! He won't even fight back.

And still Anselm's hand stayed. Etienne looked unsure, his gaze holding Anselm while he moved and then stopped, equally conflicted.

This enraged Anselm even more. His stomach was a fury of knots. His blood was pounding in his ears. Strike him! He wanted to -- and yet, again came that unbidden emotion he tried so hard to ignore.

Etienne's question merited a snort of derision. Anselm's skin crawled and his fur was on edge as he turned to move, stalking stiffly past. He refused to answer -- because he knew, deep down, he did not want Etienne to leave him like everyone else had, too.

Etienne would not have fought back, but not b3cause he was weak. Nay it would have been because Anselm was still healing.

There was a heady tension to the air. That Etienne could taste and he wasn't sure what it was. But he did know today was very possibly a breaking point, but what was breaking?

There were no bonds here. A pretty faced boy of mountain and ice who hated the sea born who had a face that didn't belong to him. And yet there was. Toxic and sinuous and flawed. Ugly if looked upon and yet two souls so bound in it neither one knew what to do.

Etienne moved on a whim blocking the way of the frost boy. I asked you a question. If nothin' else i deserve an answer.

His egress blocked, Anselm turned upon Etienne with a flash of teeth meant to rake the air and nothing else.

His gaze flashed emberfire in annoyance. Vhat does deserve have to do vith ANYTHING? If we both got vhat we deserved, neither one of us would be here. He turned his lean muzzle away, hiding the sting of teary frustration that threatened to break over his features. If you do not vant to know the answer to stupid questions, do not ask them.

And then, despite the pain it would inflict his own healing body, Anselm sought to shove Etienne with a shoulder as he strode past.

Would he have not moved he would have only caught air, but the sharp teeth caught soft cheek. And Etienne reeled back with anger and hurt burning in his eyes. Blood dripping from the flayed skin. It was a surface wound really, a small scar just a thin line when it were all done.

Etienne shook his head. Small ribbons of blood arcing in the air. Dere be no suc ting as stupid questions. You will 'ave black 'eart you keep 'iding. Bittercroot dat grow.

An elbow sharp into soft chest, against breast bone. Eti gave a soft oof. And he too turned away. Bursing more than hurt of a physical kind. Perhaps he should not stay.

Anselm reeled in surprise to see crimson welts on Etienne's cheeks. He'd not meant to hit the boy, truly -- scarlet shame made its home then in the drop of his stomach.

But it was too late, and he was too proud to say sorry. Why didn't Etienne strike back? Why did Etienne never defend himself? It made Anselm angrier -- for all purposes, Etienne was a corporeal form with thoughts and feelings -- so why then did he allow himself to be a doormat?

An apology died on the tip of his tongue, incensed by Anselm's cutting sense of injustice. Vhy do you care vhat my heart is like? He wanted to keep walking, so he would not face the physical manifestation of hurt he'd caused Etienne. You should care about yourself only. No one else vill.

He saw the surprise. Good. Anselm ahould not take his anger out on others.

Etienne saw no reason to dtrike a wolf that it did not matter if he did. For then Anselm would feel justified in his cruelty and it was not okay.

Etienne stared. Because you don't. And i am not bult dis way. I am not a selfis' wolf.

Once more Anselm scoffed, but still he could not bring his gaze to the hard red which lined Etienne's face. He did not like seeing that any more than he liked being the author of it; this surprised him.

I am not selfish either. Anselm corrected, bristling. Of course, from Etienne's perspective, how could this be true? Anselm was a dick to him. I just do not vaste my energy vith senseless emotions. You -- He grunted, stopping short of something truly acerbic. You vaste so much energy vorrying about everyvone else.

Etienne would need to clean his cheek soon. Face wounds were always so much worse even as shallow as this one. He rubbed his cheek along his shoulder painting it lightly red. It itched and tickled and the constant drip was irritating.

Etienne raised a wolfish brow. Not selfish? Anselm had done nothing but treat him lesser than since he met him. So far as to urinate on the herbs Etienne had been bringing for Mahler.

Etienne shifted. I am 'ealer. It be my job and w'y s'ould i not.

He briefly reeled as he remembered this way of thinking had gotten him in trouble before. It was why he left. He had put all his emotions down down. Told himself his family mattered more than he, their happiness, their life. It was his job to keep them healthy, and happy.

You should not, because — and here the spear of his anger lost its volition as Anselm realized he was truly alone. Mahler was gone. Wylla was gone. Emmerich was gone. 

A long exhale pressed through his nose. because you vill not take care of yourself if you are always flapping and fluttering around others. Even something altruistic had to be phrased with a jab. Anselm backed away, regarding the ugly score of red on Etienne’s face. The sight of it twisted his stomach. 

Go clean your fucking face. He turned on his heels and limped away, unable to burn the image of blood as it trickled down Etienne’s jawline, darkening his fur.