Winter is Coming

Gryphon had been laying fairly well low since the raid he'd agreed to help his mother's friends on. The events of that battle had left him troubled - seeing the depths that other wolves could sink to in their thirst for revenge. In one swirl of the battle he had seen one of Valentine's sons slaughtering the children of the slavers who had taken the former alpha of Imperium's mate and their son. Before he could confront the monster about his actions, the battle had moved them away from one another, and he'd not seen him again. It was hardly the only atrocity he'd seen that day, performed by these wolves that his mother seemed to feel she owed her loyalty. It left him feeling empty and troubled, and he'd avoided interacting with even his family, though he'd made it a point to stay where he could keep his eye on his mother. Now she'd followed a stranger north, and Gryphon followed to hover at the very far edges of hearing distance, his brow creasing as he heard her speaking words that made it... while not clear, at least strongly implied that she was joining him in a new pack.

Gryphon stood still, deathly still, with his gaze on his paws. Others came after her to speak their own piece. Gryphon, however, remained at the very periphery. The last time he'd followed his mother's lead to a group like this - He couldn't help the memories that welled up to choke him, the sights and scents and sounds of a massacre that had no justice. But he couldn't abandon his mother to follow her friends to this pack, to maybe another massacre, to whatever soulless injustices they could drag her along to, without anyone to watch her back, to guard her and to guide her. His mother, he knew, had never been particularly good at making good decisions. The massacre she had joined in upon had only cemented that belief in him. He didn't yet have enough information to know if she was making the right decision this time either, but she'd made it, and he wouldn't let her go alone into whatever consequences came from it.

So, he dragged himself from the fresh horror of memories and padded through the gathering group to sit beside his mother. "Where you go, I go," he assured her, then glanced around. The north again, of course, and he gave an exaggerated shiver. "But this time, maybe I should get a coat before winter hits." She didn't need to know the depths of his uncertainty right now, or how haunted he'd been. Let her think he was just the way he'd been before.