Arrow Lake behind closed doors

He wasn't deterred by her comments, mostly because her opinion didn't hold the same weight as his father's or his mother's, or other fully functioning adults. The boy remained fixated on that stump of a limb until she was finished her little lesson (or, attempted lesson), and then scoffed, a wolf-grin spreading across his pale face.

If four-leggers can beat you so easy, why do you keep tryin'? He didn't wait for a reply to that statement; it was rhetorical in the sense that Mesa was just too self-involved and cruel at this stage of life to give her any chance to counter him. I won't hunt for you, and nobody else should. Mesa was straight-faced when he said this, proclaiming her inadequacy with as much ease as someone might describe the color of the sky. It made sense to him, and didn't feel wrong at all to mention it. You should leave.

He was certain in his decree - and in his limited experience - that Diaspora would be better off with wolves that met his father's high standard; this wolf, powerful as she may be as an adult, would forever be lacking because of her injury. Mesa staunchly believed he was doing his father a great service by speaking up about it - hopefully empowering the pack and cutting the dead weight.