He felt like an intruder. Part of him wished that Oksana (or Inna) would have dismissed him. As much as the raven’s disconnect affected him and the rest of the river wolves, it Oksana who suffered the most. His tail twitched uncomfortably as his pear gaze flitted between the two, his ears sweeping back against his crown. He listened to the little crow’s spiel, his muzzle canted toward her, his expression soft. He wondered if his own children had felt the same when he had become withdrawn after the matriarch’s death? His behaviour, however, had subsided after a few weeks but Inna’s… hers was only worsening. It made sense. She had lost her mother; her pain ran much deeper.
His paws shifted uncomfortably as he felt Inna’s hot gaze on him. For a moment he debated on taking his leave, like he had intended to earlier. But he could’t do that to Oksana—not when she had asked him to stay. The corners of his mouth dropped as he allowed his chartreuse pools to fall upon the older Baranski. He did not know what to say—this wasn’t a conversation he was supposed to be a part of. The pair fell silent after the raven said her piece, almost as though they were expecting him to chime in. He swallowed, words hesitating on the tip of his tongue before tumbling off, one after another. “Being outside your dinner, with Oksana, will help you. We are all suffering the same loss, but you cannot exclude yourself. It will only make things worse.” His frown deepened. “I should go now,” he started, a sigh accompanying his words as he took a step away from the pair. “Spend some time together. Maybe go on a hunt, or a patrol. The fresh air will do you some good, Inna.” He dipped his head, his tail swaying gently behind him. “Talk to each other.” With that he continued to step away from them until he disappeared into the trees, allowing the towering red woods to devour his pale frame…
Exit.
stick with those who stick with you