Jade Fern Grove dad's on a hunting trip

as the leaves shake and flutter to the ground like twirling dancers, vex realizes there’s a relief to the exertion of his anger. the sea of ferns face him, tickling his face and he turns to a applered fern and grasps it. he tugs it and spits out the bits that splinter in his mouth, leaves sticking to his tongue and lips. again and again and again, vex carves a destructive path of wrath. why he was angry fled him long ago; he does it because he’s been bottling it up. being kicked from the den ( petty ), because of the disrespectful strangers at the borders ( he hadn’t even been present for that ), for his dad going on a trip and not inviting him ( even though it was far from uncommon ).

the ferns offer weak resistance and he finds the action cathartic.

until —

until a small voice calls out to him. he turns and fixes his gaze upon the brown boy, eyeing his approach. he ignores the question, trampling the leaves under paw, hackles bristling as he drinks in the boy’s strange scent. he doesn’t recognize it. it wasn’t the halfbreed and his companion’s scent …but it was still foreign. who’re you? he demands, because the grove is close enough to legion for vex to feel territorial over it — even if he doesn’t understand the deep seedlings of possessiveness clawing at his throat.