Trouble with a capital T

Delphi has her version of events. It seems plausible, though Víðarr was biased on the subject. Gently, the viking king wipes at the girl's bloody cheek, sighing gently. She'd attempted to fight, and Víðarr was pleased to see the fire rising within her. Still, there was a time and a place, and this was neither.

But first, there was Astraios to deal with. "Have you not been well fed here, boy?" The question is issued sharply, icy gaze severe upon the child. Víðarr drew to his full height, towering over the pup. "If you have needs that are not being met, you ask. You do not steal." The words are menacing, weighty as he speaks. "Is that clear?" Víðarr is steady, stable, waiting for the answer only briefly.

His attention turned to Delphi, softening as he does. "Fighting with your packmates is a part of life, my lamb, but we save maiming for the very big things." Víðarr sighed deeply, taking a step back to assess both pups. They were ragged and muddy, but neither appeared truly injured. Some bruised pride, but that was growing up.

"Now, a fitting punishment for the both of you," Víðarr pretended to consider it, though he'd long made up his mind. "Astraois, you will help Delphi collect herbs to replace the ones you ruined." The viking king peered between both of the children, his eyebrows raised. Daring either of them to challenge the ruling.

"Víðarr"