He stared into the fish's eye as it looked up into the skies, unblinking, gasping for breath. He'd caught the fish- a small trout, hardly more than a morsel- and had carried it onto the shore and had watched for some time as it had flopped about. He'd done little to harm it- if he'd plunked it back into the water, it likely could have swum away and lived out the rest of its life. He'd been fairly gentle with his teeth, only gripping the slippery thing hard enough so that he might not drop it and allow it to get away. He simply sat as it flipped this way and that way on the new green grass, but it was too far from the water, now, to find its way back, and he doubted very much that it even knew the way to go. Only when it had resolved to lie flat on the ground, motionless apart from its gasping, did he close in and sit just beside it so that he could look into its wide, staring eye and watch.

There was very little difference to be seen in the fish's face. No expression, really. It looked just as surprised now as it had when it had been in the water, and he found very little consolation in that. This looked like a creature which lived every minute of its life in fear of being caught and killed. Even rabbits an deer looked serene before they realized they were being watched or hunted. But birds and fish, he decided, were different. There was something about those wide eyes and their mouths that denied him the pleasure of seeing expression, passion, personality. The fish looked no more alive now than it did when it had been in the water- and even when it stopped gasping for air it looked no more dead than it had before it had died. He was not impressed. This wasn't something that knew and valued its life. This was something that knew nothing.

The fish was left on the grass by the boy who had no interest in eating something so simple. Even though he was hungry, he didn't desire it. Someone else might find it, he decided, and they could eat it if they wanted to. A fox or coyote could even have it, he didn't care, and he didn't want to offer such a thing to his mother. Fish were a disgrace to the living. Birds were, too. He wanted only to kill something that knew the value of being alive. The water had been drying up in the stream and even then, the fish hadn't fought for its life, it hadn't left to find somewhere better. It had stayed in the shallows where it had easily been caught.

His search for another form of prey was interrupted by a new scent he'd caught lingering in the pack, and he followed it quietly. The prince of fire and ash stalked the new female through the willows, further up stream where he found her not far from the same source of water his fish had come from. At first, he was quite surprised to see her; she was quite similar to his mother, and he knew at once who she must be; he'd heard about her from Skoll, who had already had the chance to meet both this new addition to their pack and the other, both who were of Archer blood. It was her eyes that ensnared his attention the most- the same, pale, silverfish grey that his mother had. The fire-orange eyes belonging to the boy flashed, but he dipped his head in greeting as he approached her. Though Skoll had been somewhat sour when he'd spoken to him about these two new arrivals, the older Archer prince would reserve judgement- for now. He found himself quite drawn toward liking her; her resemblance to his mother was easily noted, which immediately put her in the boy's favour. She was beautiful; a younger version of Elettra, with a bit less brown in her coat. Given how much the boy liked his mother, he felt immediately drawn to Sorya, a wolf whose attractiveness came mainly from how he associated her, already, with her sister.

"I was told our family here had grown," He said, his silky voice smoothe and warm. "Asriel Archer, pleased to meet you," He said quietly, and though he appeared humble, there was a certain dignity about the way he held himself, so as to establish exactly who he was: Asriel Archer, prince of Willow Ridge.

Yes, look at me.

Asriel loved the attention he got from others when they met him for the first time. He especially liked it when he already knew a bit about them; it put him in a higher position, it made him feel comfortable and thus, better able to make himself look presentable when he wasn't surprised or ruffled. She seemed a bit more interested in something else for a moment- as though he'd distracted her from something more important, but soon enough she figured it out- that as his aunt and a member of the pack, she couldn't simply brush him off. She should be grateful for his company- and he was bound and determined to make sure she felt as though he was grateful for hers. He had to make his subjects love and adore him if he wanted them to follow him. And he was very good at being civil when he wanted to.

He drew forward and tilted his ears back in an appeasing gesture as he moved close enough to place a subservient nuzzle to the underside of her jaw. He couldn't simply embrace her as he might embrace a close relative he'd known all his life- though he'd been brought up in too formal an environment for such shows of affection anyway- but he felt he could at least give her a tender greeting as a member of his kin. He wondered if she was comparing him to Skoll, that reedy, gangly young thing. He was grateful that he'd grown into a rather proportionate yearling, rather than being tall and skinny as Skoll was. He wanted to look like a proper Prince.

"Angier, yes," He said, allowing a fond smile to come to his lips as he spoke his step-father's name. "I'm a guardian in training," He said, pleased that she had asked him about himself. He liked to talk about himself- but he knew that simply speaking about himself wouldn't have won her over. "Would you like to come with me? We can do a tour of the borders, I could show you around a bit if you'd like," He said, enjoying the idea of taking a new pack member on tour so she could see the world through his eyes, and learn about it through him.

Rather than being discouraged by her alternate plans, Asriel accepted the change gladly and bowed his head. Though he preferred to patrol, rather than wander aimlessly through the heart of the territory, he would do it as a way of winning Sorya over. He knew the sights of Willow Ridge exceptionally well, even though he preferred, now, to patrol the borders. As they set off, he browed through his mind to see which places would be the best to show her- one came to mind as a wicked memory, and he made sure to remember to show her that spot, so she could avoid it in the future, or at least be wary of it. But there were several other, pleasant and useful places he could show her that she might not have seen yet. He stepped in by her side, his dark chest and fiery shoulders half a length ahead of her, but still close enough that they could talk without him needing to constantly keep his head turned.

It seemed, though, that rather than receiving a spoken guide of the Ridge that she was interested to know of their family- but, to be specific, she wanted to know what he knew, which he interpreted as a bit of a test. If anything, he perceived this as Sorya's way of asking to see what Elettra had passed down about their homeland, of which she had spoken now and again, but Asriel, to tell the truth, was more concerned with the present than the past. "I know that my mother is of the great Torbine Empire," He said. "A dynasty ruled by the Archer family. I am told that the families were large, and that it was a noble, lawful society. My mother has spoken of Gods as well, of the Earth, the Sea, the Sun and the Moon." He said. And while he knew his mother wasn't a devout worshipped, her knowledge of them must have come from the life she'd had when she lived in Torbine. He ducked his head as they passed under the drooping branches of a willow and felt a small shudder as the branch trailed along his spine. "She has spoken of a brother she had; Deacon," He said. He then turned his muzzle to Sorya. "Did you know him?"