Seaside Moors Go get your wounded heart

the call resounds upon the tangy air; thick with moss musk, damp earth and tinged with salt. it does not come as a surprise to wintersbane and he heads off in the direction with haste. he knew his rank was unsteady; and as time ticked on like the ache beneath a bruise, suspects that he would not hold it much longer. to rusalka, he will always be seen as the usurper. the outlaw king; and wintersbane has designs for his future that doesn’t involve a constant civil war with every step he took.

he sees erzulie and rosalyn as he approaches; polar gaze taking quick stock of the situation. they are both poised, twin cobras ready to strike at him. for a moment he stares at the two women. against one? he could probably win. but he’s outnumbered in the herenow and is sure that the entire pack feels much the same as they.

if there was one thing that wintesbane gained with age it was knowing when he’s lost. when a losing battle is a losing battle and it was a waste of energy and strength to bother fighting. when fighting was only to sate his pride.

i won’t fight you. wintersbane breaks his silence, speaking to the wives. it’s yours. especially since they were willing to fight him two on one. hardly the fair fight he’d given aninigan. i’ll leave in peace and i’ll never return. he’s been doing that a lot lately.