The crack in my foundation

The Warlord stepped back from Tam, pacing and growling before Mojito appeared. The smell of his dead wife and child beside him, Tamsyn collapsed before him. He was not doing a good job of holding it together. His eyes flashed when Mojito appeared, and pushed herbs towards him. He managed to reign himself in enough not to attack his lead healer. Mojito was important, to him and to the pack.
One of the lessons his lead healer would need to learn quickly, was not taking shit from an angry Warlord.

He ignored the herb for himself, but he grabbed the one for Tamsyn. He pried open her muzzle and placed it on her tongue, before blowing on her nose. The gesture was down with very deliberate, very careful motions. He knew how easy it would be to break something on the smaller, more fragile wolves around him, feeling as he was.

That done, he got back to pacing, back and forth while the healer worked. There was a delay between his question asked, and Sirius answering. Brutal truth, a healer had to know what they were working with. “The scars on her face were given by her Wife a few days ago. She lost control, and now the pack are keeping her in the dungeon while they figure it out.” by now, it had likely spread around the Armada why Sirius had left in a hurry to the Hollows. To help Resin and Tamsyn. Both wolves that were his

Even when they did stupid, foolish things, like pull him away from his dead wife.

His breath hissed from his mouth again, and he paused his pacing for a moment. “Can you identify bodies through bones?” it wasn’t a practice he knew existed or not, but he had to ask.

"Speech"