Lake Rodney Kill Wanheda, and you command death.

Wow. Jus drain, jus daun. Blood must have blood. What a huge statement to come from such a little thing. But it is one he knows well and the words send a chill trailing along the length of his spine. Finally, he thinks as he breathes a sigh, someone who understands.

For a long time, despite their efforts to build something from nothing, Dacio and Opalia's support system had included only each other. This encounter had opened a whole new opportunity to rid the sound of their enemies and  at last take back their home. Praimfaya went on to extend invitation to the Drakru siblings, an offer of a place among her budding kru, which brought his ears forward in surprise. She would have him among the ranks of the pack her mother dreamed of building, despite his admission of how bitterly he felt for her abandonment of Drageda?

He stared at her, quiet as he thought it all over, knowing what this would mean for he and Opalia: they would be forced to shed their surname and be shunned from their family, destined to live among the traitors. Could he, after everything he'd said? Despite all he believed in?

Desperate times and desperate measures, he supposed, but the stubbornness in him held fast. Without Drageda, what was he? Who was he?

The silver yearling blinked, and twitched a whisker in thought. "You have my thanks, Wanheda," he offered, "allow me to bring this to my Opalia's attention. We have much to discuss. How about we plan to arrive at your fen in the morning, if you'd like to meet her?"