Cedar Sweep pass the wasabi

The older of the two is reactive, and Llewellyn feels his own lips curling in a snarl at the bristling shown him. Things calm down, though, and the prince forces himself to hear past the blood pounding in his ears, to the things the boy says to him. He nods at the girl's question, glancing at the hawk once more before turning to the wolves.

"As I said, Ceara is a friend," he says coolly. "My name is Llewellyn; I am from Moonspear. Ceara and I were going to meet here a few days ago, but she never turned up. So she is missing?" An uncomfortable feeling begins to burn in his chest. What if his impulsiveness had led to her getting hurt--or worse? What if she had taken matters into her own paws and it had gone terribly wrong?

"Is Blackfeather Woods to the north?" Llewellyn asks, trying to keep his face impassive. "She told me about the war between your packs. And just the other day, she was attacked by one of their wolves--for personal reasons, she explained. . .but given their history. . ." He trails off delicately, mouth stretching in a tight frown. Had the girl come back to finish the job?