like (adopted) mother like (adopted) son

The scar on his shoulder, though tender still, was hardly anything worth noting. It was frustrating though as a reminder of the fact he'd lost. He wasn't naive enough to think he could win every fight he found himself in but knowing Aryn had felt like she'd had to intervene still didn't settle well with him. Even though she insisted that he was her son and that she would always want to protect him. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. He had no doubt both Recluse and Deathbelle would feel the same way about him, as much as he wished things were different. You're not a fighter, he wanted to say, but he knew better than that - even if he felt like she wasn't he knew the words would be needlessly cruel. She'd proven herself as perfectly capable and he knew that as well as anyone. Instead, he simply clenched his jaw and grit his teeth, surprised about the contents of her words when she spoke again.

He knew Recluse and Aryn were very different wolves. He wasn't so blind as to know Aryn didn't necessarily feel she belonged here, but he'd always been able to push those thoughts aside. Until now. She wanted to leave and wanted Veigar to go with her. "Recluse is my family though," he explained carefully. Aryn was arguably the closest thing he'd ever had to a mother but Recluse was more than just Habari's alpha. "And Deathbelle is here too. I don't know, Aryn." There was less sign of his usual temper even though it threatened to flare as something like panic flooded his chest. He knew these lands like the back of his paw; he could survive here, even thrive, but somewhere new? He wasn't so sure. "I don't know if I can leave," he admitted, his voice quivering slightly as his luminescent markings began to glow, dull but noticeable even in the daylight.