The cub had been on his own, she had argued. The declaration only made the Leader frown, and he was not surprised when his mate arrived. Myrrhis had ducked down, shielding the cub beneath her as she cowered over him. The boy asking for his mother had not gone unnoticed. If they did not act now, then there was certainly going to be hell to pay. He would know, Naira would know... she had lost her children once before.
"...the mistake was mine and mine alone," she pleaded. "Any punishment you deem worthy to use on me, leave the boy out of it, I beg of you." This made Mapplethorpe openly growl, the sound vibrating through his chest and through the air. ”He was simply lost and it was my decision to bring him here. It is no fault of his that he is here.” His tongue slithered out between his teeth a number of times before he looked over at his Queen. He rumbled at her, this sort of soft growl confirming that he was rather pleased that she felt the same way. In a sense, this was like dealing with Sagacity and Mercy all over again; and, just as he had before, he gazed to Naira with an expectant gaze, his fur standing on end.
In a sickly sweet voice he cooed to her, "What do you think, Naira? Should we let the woman take the cub back or shall I we have Chulyin take care of it himself and leave her to fend for herself?" A deep whiff brought to mind something familiar, now that he had had the chance to pick up on the sharpness of willow leaves that mingled about the boy's mottled coat.
Though he had initially sneered and smirked and leered at such an idea as sending the cub one way and exiling Myrrhis towards the opposite ends of Relic Lore, his expression neutralized into a glare that darkened his masked face. "The boy looks familiar," he mused. "He smells familiar..." He stared at Deacon's face, his golden eyes raking up every inch of that dark, downy fur while trying to think of where he had last scented the aroma of willows.
It had been at that meeting, he soon figured, and immediately his gaze went back to his equal, all traces of pleasure and a desire to mercilessly deliver the cub to the Spirit of Wildwood itself extinguished by pressure and anxiety. They were not as they used to be, the two of them, and they would not be a match against any furious monarch with a rescue party of Guards and Scouts at their back. "We need to get this cub out of here," he hissed. "Now. Before anyone comes looking for him here." He fell silent then, listening and waiting for Naira to give her verdict: what would become of Myrrhis and what would happen to the boy she had mistaken as a orphaned cub.