I'll bite skin off your back
Kick your teeth to your throat
Give me one second,
and I'll show you what I have.

Unless you can offer apology,
unless I can find some forgiveness.

You're lucky I have it,
in wealth, in abundance.



Ashamin was just about to turn around and walk into the storm. He had heard enough, he had had enough, he was done with this. And though the Haruspex prided himself on being able to control his temper, he felt the rush of distaste inside him to be something other than anger. No, it was more like a responsibility to discipline. To challenge this boy now would not be out of spite or dislike, but in an effort to teach him that he wasn't invincible, and that Ashamin was not to be disrespected.

Maybe a little earlier in the season the haruspex wouldn't have had such pride. But he'd earned this position, he'd met and earned the trust of all the leads of this herd, and they respected him. If the reaper, laurelin, and Hotaru all thought he had something valuable to contribute to the herd as a haruspex, then this child of their predecessor--clearly unsuccessful in her rule if she no longer held the position--had no right to say otherwise.

And he had even started to turn, begun to face that white blizzard. He would have gone out and yelled back, challenged the younger buck to join him out there and fight if he was so damn sure he was right.

But the second remark, tinged with something that the haruspex sensed was an apology, was enough to ease the anger. And Lochan's gentle flash of the outside cold helped, too. He didn't want to put his companion through the strain of his own sudden flash of impatience. He would relax. He would accepted.

Ashamin's long tail fell quietly to the ground, a few humble sparks skittering out into the snow and trailing up into the wind. He had turned and allowed the caves inhabitant a glimpse of his gold, gaping scars. Now he turned back, showing his quieter, unmarked side.

"It's alright," Ashamin said in his own way of apology and acceptance given the circumstances, "so have I."

The wind howled at the painted buck's back, ruffling the longer patches of white fur that were scattered across him. His black eyes searched to find some deeper intention in the younger boy's gold. It was a whole scene of empty eyes, bold in their lack of interruption. "Would you bid me to enter?" he asked finally, sighing, back sloping, legs shivering faintly in the cold. "If not me, then at least my companion. He's still too young to wait in such harsh weather," came the final selfless suggestion. Ashamin could bear the cold. Let Lochan be allowed into shelter.

Ashamin could weather a lot of grief and pain.

ASHAMIN