Sun Mote Copse seems every castle is made of sand

There was a certain tension in the air, but Pippin had missed the entirety of it. The youth was flustered, and Pippin began to settle his catch between his paws, his tail giving an idle lash through the air in consideration. He would have tried to relieve some of the tension—maybe talk to the boy who in that moment reminded him almost of a much, much younger version of himself—but Wraen appeared, asserting the dark wolf was welcome and a friend.

He blinked at the next flurry of words that came about—something about a dead brother, a challenge… placing blame upon himself. He winced, once more reminded of his own discarded youth, though he had been much younger when he had killed….

He stopped the thought abruptly. Leaning down to scoop the pheasant back to his jaws once more, his eyes strayed to Wraen, waiting for her dismissal and assurance she would be fine before he followed after Towhee. He had his own drama to contend with, and the memories this current predicament were surfacing only frayed his nerves further.