The young child had been doing his best to keep up – learning new things simply by observing before he tried out styles of his own, no real instruction in his lessons much to his displeasure. He’d become distant with Maeve, the rift between them startling him quite a bit given how closely he wanted to cling to her, keep her safe like he hadn’t been able to do with his parents. He’d been recovering, some might say thriving if you watched him close enough. His mother’s death and his father’s disappearance had been a push for him to grow up, a reality check and growing up came fast after that.
This wasn’t to say the boy was no fun – he played, but he also worked on honing his hunting technique with small animals, hoping that when he was old enough to participate in a pack hunt when one was called, he’d be able to participate and do well. The one thing that Wren hadn’t gotten into too much was socializing with the rest of the pack. He knew Phineas, and Erebos. Vitani had disappeared on him, though he found himself unable to grow close to wolves enough to care anymore. He knew Kyna, considered her his best friend, and Maeve despite not knowing what her problem was.
No, Kyna and Maeve were the two that weren’t allowed to leave; the ones that he couldn’t let disappear on him because he trusted the both of them and they were both his friends. Maeve was his sister, and blood always ran thicker than water, so he’d been taught by his mother. Family was everything and she was the only family he had left.
Apart from that, he didn’t really know any of the wolves didn’t care too much to meet them because he was just the orphaned child of a former queen and a beta wolf. He didn’t want whatever they threw at him – aggression, sympathy, pity, anger, rage… just dull emotions really. No, definitely not. That was why he found himself sulking about towards the middle of the territory after yet another failed hunt.