The shadow was seething. As his nephew spoke Greer was (painfully) reminded that the pale boy was Sköll’s son. He understood that the bleeding cow was closer to the Ridge territory than it was the mountain, but it did not mean the two packs couldn’t share the meal. But, apparently, sharing was above Sven. He snorted, his mercury eyes rolling in his skull as his upper lip curled, revealing a row of ivory teeth as the fur on the back of his neck bristled. He and Morganna had left because their mother’s empire was falling apart—crumbling due to the lack of stability in the pack. He still held a fondness for the willows, just not for the wolves who remained.
Attica was quick to chime in, her words clipped as spoke harshly to her brother. The differences between the two couldn’t be more obvious. Greer was thankful that the peppered Archer had not taken traits from either of her parents. His niece had taken the words right out of his head, for he wouldn’t have been able to articulate it as well as she had. The Ridge used to be a prominent presence in the southern Lore, but as his parents aged the structure had begun to deteriorate—especially with his uncle at the helm. He wanted what was best for him, not the rest of the pack or the Archer legacy. Even Sköll had tainted the Archer name by breeding with whatever walked by first. Attica, at least, had her wits about her. Sven—not so much.
He was amused by Summiter’s speech, but appreciated it nonetheless. Even the newcomer had a better sense of loyalty than his nephew. Ravenna was quick to dismiss the situation, for she had no patience with Sven or the Aurora pack.
As his scarlet mate spoke she commanded the attention of the wolves gathered around the spilled elk blood, venom dripping from her tongue. He remained at her side, the fur on the back of his neck still standing as she addressed the obnoxious white Archer. Sven no power here, he spat once his mate had finished, herding the rest of the Aurora wolves away from the clearing. He gave a short nod to her in regards to Attica—he would ensure nothing would happen to his niece. Send Nicolo next time. His tongue clucked against the roof of his mouth, his mercury gaze fixated on the ghostly Archer. Willows died with Greer-mother, he added, his gaze hardening. Sven shame Archer name. He took a step forward, his lanky body still rigid. He shot Attica a quick glance, indicating that it was time to take their leave soon: wrap it up!