Stone Circle so i'll follow the birdsong

Once their mother had swooped in to snatch the bird from them, Illidan looked at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. He did not understand. They were starving, and she had taken their only source of food, because why? The child felt a pang in his chest and he could sense tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. There was a burning in the pit of his stomach that reflected shame and cast an expression on the dark-hooded youth to show that he did not understand. It was only then that he heard the words of the adults, and Illidan then looked from his father to his mother and back to the strangers who sat on the other side of the marked border. It was then that he painted them as monsters.
 
“Ma? What happen? They don’t want us?”
 
His question was soft for a child that rarely spoke. He looked to his mother with pleading eyes and then back to the strangers who had seemingly turned them away. He was afraid; Illidan did not want to travel any more. His legs were tired, and he was hungrier than he had ever remembered being in his life. He wanted to stay there in the pack. He wanted to find a den and nestle down without worrying about bears that would come into the night and devour them.
 
“A-are we gon die, ma?”
 
Illidan rose to his feet tiredly and felt a huff leave his muzzle. He did not know if he could walk any further, but he feared being left behind to wolves who were too cruel to accept them into their home. More than this, he did not understand what was wrong with them that they should have been turned away. He looked to his father with a quivering lip and a tail that was tucked close to his rear. He knew that Kierkegaard would have harsh words for them, but he did not fear that nearly as much as he feared trekking out further into the unknown with no end in sight.