Blackfeather Woods Let my eyes be the rhythm

flicker begins to speak as soon as he arrives, diving right into things by claiming a 'mountain pack' etched those wounds upon her flesh as she tilts her face into the light for the pair to see. wintersbane studies them with a clinical grimness — he's no medic but they don't look life threatening. only painful. he suspects she speaks of moonspear for that is the only 'mountain pack' he knows of, lest one cropped up very recently in the sunspire region. you are blackfeather, the tundrian rumbles, breaking his silence. for some packs that is more than reason enough. such was the burden of the legacy they cloaked themselves in. such was the burden of the blood-red pawprint pressed into the blue-black fur of his shoulder.

flicker looks at him when she mentions a young mercenary in training with the bloodlust of a lion and there is an annoyed roll of wintersbane's shoulders. why do you look at me when you speak of this young mercenary? the dark brother demands, brows furrowed wondering if she was insinuating that this young, bloodthirsty mercenary reminded her of him — in which case made him want to inform her that she truly knows nothing about him at all.

oh, once upon a time; sure. he would fight everyone and everything. he didn't care. all he lived for was the rush of adrenaline and the pain and the power that came with winning. but he has shed his skin of that reckless, ( stupid ) foolhardy boy.

did they want information on mou-screech-titmouse-whatever the fuck he calls himself these days? wintersbane inquires of flicker as relmyna leads them to her medicine den. i suspect i know which mountain pack you speak of; and if i'm correct: they know he's among us and they want him dead. he's a source of a lot of trouble for them and wintersbane has long since begin to wonder if he's worth all the trouble. as far as wintersbane's concerned mou-screech-titmouse is dead weight and if they didn't cut him loose soon he will drown the whole pack in blood. they'll kill anyone that stands in their way. it was a grim threat that hydra parted him with and how the strategist in wintersbane approached matters like this — with clinical coolness that could be mistaken for blunt cruelty and logic — is that one life is not worth the lives of the many; but he keeps this to himself largely under the suspicion that the listener will not share his viewpoint on that.