Whitefish River the hamiltons move uptown

The guilt that washed over him for uttering the name of his assailant was quick to turn to abject misery when Vercingetorix cast doubt on his claim. He could neither confirm or deny what his father said. He had been out cold for a while after Sanguinus slammed him into the tree, and it was several days before his parents found him at the bottom of the cliffs—who knew what webs Sanguinus wove in those in-betweens? Drago didn't but he knew he wasn't mistaken about the identity of his tormenter. Sanguinus had even said Aurëwen sent him looking for Dragomir.

Vercingetorix's lack of faith in his admission sank into his gut like a stone and immediately festered. His chest felt tight and his head felt woozy. All of his hurts seemed amplified, like fists slamming into him from multiple angles. Dragomir felt winded and began to breathe more rapidly, trying to extinguish the frantic burning in his lungs, but his eyes adopted a panicked sheen nonetheless as he curled in on himself and cried, IT WAS HIM! The wolf hadn't just looked like Sanguinus, it was Sanguinus. At least as far as Dragomir knew, and no amount of reasoning would convince him otherwise. Merrick had played the part too well and Dragomir hadn't known his mother's "friend" well enough prior to the incident to recognize the flaws.

He couldn't summon the breath or composure to say anything else; he was now fully hyperventilating with his head shoved down between his forelegs.