you're not salinger, get over it.

The Warlord paused at the sound of a disturbance, and then indicated for Basilisk to follow him quietly. Moving through the words as the sound of fighting increased. He picked up his pace, and then the scene unfolded before him. Hazel locked into a battle for her life. Her teeth were around his neck, and he could see she was winning.

His first impulse was to race in there and help her, but breathing in the scents he could catch the familiarity. He knew who this was in that first breath. The man who had purposefully left a child to starve. Anger rolled across his face, but he didn’t dive in. This was personal, and he knew better than most how demons could haunt a wolf, long after the physical threat was gone. She needed to know she could win. When bas moved to interfere, he threw the wolf to the ground, placing a paw over him and holding him still. He barely had the awareness of his grandchild, he had attention only for Hazel. Too late, he realised how injured she was. As she released her hold on his throat, she staggered and he realised the blood in her coat wasn’t only her sperm donors.

Marshal had gone for Halo the moment they arrived, but he was suddenly afraid the healer would come too late. He released Basilisk, and knew the father would pose no danger to them. Hazel had killed him, and Basilisk would hasten his death along. Stepping over the growing gore, he reached for Hazel. Tipping a claw gently under her chin as he tilted her face up towards him. Searching her over looking for the injury. Hard to tell where his blood ended and hers began - but there. Her right shoulder. He steadily began to clean her, holding her close as he did so. “My daughter.” he whispered. And “You're okay, you're safe. You won.” soothing noises as he cared for her and waited for Halo to come. Ignoring the gorgy sounds of Basilisk rending flesh.


"Speech"