XIX did not understand what Aleksei had done to anger the raven so much. He had left Hearthwood, shortly before his mother’s death, but even the pale ghost did not fault the Baranski for that. After hearing the Baranski’s departing howl he had angry at first. Not because he had chosen to leave. No, Lachesis had respected his decision. He had been angry at how he had left. A howl, echoing through the trees. He had never learned whether Aleksei had told his mother of his plans or not. Lachesis never asked. But he got over the anger, just as quickly as it had arrived, it had left. Then came acceptance. And he got over it; moved on. Just like he always did.

Was it because Aleksei had figured out who her daughter was and grew tired of Inna denying the truth? It had been not long after Lorcán had shown up on the Hearthwood borders, seeking acceptance into the pack. To be closer to his daughter. The corners of his mouth twitched at the thought. Perhaps Aleksei couldn’t stand living with them, for their situation eerily echoed Karina’s.

“I’ll let her know,” he hummed, his expression soft. “I’m sure she would like that, too.”

He nodded at the agouti’s statement, his chartreuse fixated on the younger male, for he knew Inna did not want the man near the Tainn children. “They are your family, Alek. You are welcome to see them.” Lachesis could be an asshole and refrain the children from seeing their big brother, but he couldn’t do that. Family was important—especially when most of theirs had disappeared or passed away. 

He could practically feel the heat radiating off the raven beside him but he did not acknowledge it, or her behaviour. Not yet. It could wait until Aleksei was not present.

The raven diid not have to voice her opinion for him to know she was not happy that he had allowed the older Baranski to visit his younger half-siblings. There was a stretch of tundra between their packs—even if XIX had not allowed Aleksei permission to visit, he would cross paths with the young Tainn’s eventually. There was nothing he could do to prevent that from happening, whether Inna liked it or not. She could prevent her own daughter from seeing the agouti, but she could not keep Risaela or Mathéo from him. The ghost would make sure of that. Any issues between Aleksei and Inna could remain between them—not the younger generations. They deserved a chance to get to know their brother; their family.

A single brow arched at Inna’s response, his maw canted toward her as she spoke. It was not the answer her brother was looking for, but it appeared it was all Aleksei was going to get out of her. And it was much nicer than the previous words she had spoken toward him.

Uncle. His focus returned to the tawny male, ears pinned forward. Could we possibly talk? In private? His curiosity peaked as he nodded, accepting the male’s request. “Of course. Let’s talk a walk?” He suggested as he returned his gaze to the raven, his features smooth; relaxed. “Thank you for greeting Aleksei at the border so swiftly, Inna. You’re dismissed, I’ll see you back at the dens.” He gave her a soft nod before motioning for Aleksei to follow him along the edge of the trees. 

He watched as Inna disappeared into the trees, silent and dripping with frustration. Now was not the time to deal with her brash behaviour. The two Baranski’s were considered family to him, nothing would change that. Not @Aleksei leaving the pack, without an explanation. Not Inna breaking pack law and mating with Lorcán outside of river territory.

Perhaps Lachesis was too forgiving. Or nice. It had worked out in his favour before, but would it always be that way? He was beginning to realize his nice guy attitude was getting taken advantage of. A deep frown cut into his lips at the thought but he dismissed it quickly, his focus returning to the tawny man at his side.

He listened patiently; quietly. XIX dared not interrupt his nephew, for he did not want to disrupt his train of thought. It made sense—the pressure. Whether it was (unintentionally) brought on by the pack, or by himself, it made sense. The ghost nodded softly, his expression smooth as Aleksei elaborated on how it made him feel; how it pushed him away. The wolf at his side closely resembled his fallen father, but in appearance early. There was a flame that burned inside of Aleksei, and Lachesis could tell that he had grown into himself. Wild Rye had helped him with that, and while Lachesis would have liked the Baranski to stay within the Kingswood, he understood he reasons for leaving.

“I was mad, in the beginning,” he responded after a break in Aleksei’s speech, his expression still soft; neutral. “It didn’t last long. I knew things were different for you in Hearthwood after you returned, and I do not fault you for leaving. Hearthwood will always have a place for you, but it’s not your home. I know that.” He offered the male a small smile, his tail swaying gently behind him. “I’m happy for you. Whether you choose to stay in Wild Rye or seek another home in the future, I’ll still be happy for you—and proud of you. Nothing could change that.”

His ears twitched as the Baranski mentioned his sister’s name, the malice in his voice so thick it hung in the air around them. Lachesis could not stop the heavy sigh from rolling off his tongue, his ears sweeping back against his skull, his worried brows pinched tight. “Like your mother, I was forgiving. She had broken pack law and we accepted it. I think part of it was because your mother was scared to lose her, like Karina.” Another sigh. His own frustration grew, hot and bubbling inside his chest. “She threatened Jessie—to sever the alliance. I punished her for it, and since then she’s shied away from me, as though I’ve done something wrong? Even after, when Risaela was still in your care, she was not happy. Thought you were going to poison her mind.”

Part of him felt bad, or guilty, for sharing his thoughts aloud. Like Aeksei, the raven Baranski had been a constant in his life, and he had cared for her since the day she was born. Lachesis was a permanent uncle in their family—he had doted on all the children and was present for all of their births. However, as the tawny male at his side spoke of his frustrations, Lachesis realized that he had some of his own festering in the dark corners of his mind. Little annoyances he had brushed to the side; dismissed.

But why?

Even Aytigin was receptive to his punishments. Sure, the ebony male had a sharp tongue and was not afraid of voicing his opinions, but he took his scoldings without protest and never held a grudge. Inna, however, seemed upset and angry after Lachesis had dished out her punishment—as though she felt she was immune to them.

He nodded at his nephew’s comment, the worry line between his brows deepening. “I think you’re right.” She did not take to discipline well. But what was he supposed to do—let her get away with every mistake she made? That did not seem fair. How would the other wolves of the river react? “I should have gone myself, or Lilya. But they offered, so I didn’t think anything of it.” A low hum of frustration followed his words, his tail lashing out behind him. “She’s too emotional. And does not like it when she doesn’t get her way—which was why she insulted Jessie.” He exhaled sharply out of his nose at this, his chartreuse gaze falling to the tawny male.

A heavy sigh emitted from his chest at the Baranski’s comment. He was not wrong. Inna acted as though Lilya did not exist and acted beyond her rank in Hearthwood far too often. Aytigin had stepped out of line once or twice before, but he had been corrected immediately and taken it with stride. Inna, however… she made him feel guilty for punishing him. “I don’t know where this sense of entitlement came from. I can’t remember if it started before or after Kisla dismissed her pregnancy.”