I Hold with Those Who Favor Fire

He didn’t know what Art was thinking, but it seemed that the ruffled feathers between them had eased. It shouldn’t have, not with what Sirius had done. Perhaps Art didn’t fully comprehend it yet, how Sirius had tried to lead him to murder. It would sit in his chest like a led regret, but perhaps it would serve to remind the Warlord what selfishness could cost.

He swallowed past the pain the boys thanks gave him, and wordlessly gave the boy paw a pat in lieu of a verbal response. It was becoming very clear to Sirius that his loyalties and time were going to be split between the Armada and the Hallows. The pack and his family needed him, but so did this part of his family. And he needed them. Art and Tamsyn both.

He closed his eyes and leaned into Arts nuzzle, feeling a desperate need to protect this boy. It was a frantic feeling bubbling up inside of him - because the Warlord had discovered recently that he could not protect those that he loved. There were some things that he was utterly powerless against. It mirrored Arts question, and his throat was dry and sore when he answered. “Nothing, nothing at all, and I can think of nothing worse.” He admitted. He grimaced, and pulled his weight to one side, where one of his injuries was pulling at him. They were beginning to itch as well, which was not a fun feeling. “Can you pass me the water?” He asked, making use of the uninjured young boy well he was there.

He gave a sigh-like laugh at Arts last question. “I’ll send for her, and you can see for yourself. I know you won't truly believe until then. Besides, she’ll need you. She’ll need a friend. She just lost her mother.” He coughed past his dry throat, and hid his grief his words brought in the gesture.

"Speech"