The glare that burned behind them carried every ounce of wounded pride and predatory fury the wolfkin lord had swallowed since the negotiations began.
He held it there, seconds stretching, turning heavier, as if sheer will could convey the promise his words weren't allowed to make.
Then he scoffed, sharp and guttural, and turned his back on the armored figure.
"This is a grave mistake!" The snarl tore across the field as Skarn stalked away, his grey fur still bristling.
Rajah's amber gaze lingered on Quinlan for a beat longer than Skarn's had, cold and measuring, before the tigerkin lord turned and followed without a word.
Quinlan watched them go, then looked at Gorruk.
The bearkin lord seemed to be the one all of them listened to. At least somewhat... Vargis was not only a dogkin, a tribe not counted among the apexes of the beastkin, but he also had familial ties to Quinlan.
All of this made Gorruk the one worth talking to.
