“Would you prefer one lie over the other?” He asks the colt, turning away from the filly and all the memories she threatens to uncover. He’s enjoyed riling the boy up so far and he's genuinely interested in his next seething response, but the prospect of having to labor at catching some small, helpless thing for his young companion to eat is more compelling than the possible payoff of seeing his pompous little face twist and fluster and turn galloping home to his mother, so he relents. “You’re no son of mine.” He admits, a challenge in the dismissal. He wants to declare his progeny better, of higher mettle, say that they’d had thicker skin and defter tongues than the willful brat before him, but he stops short of forming the syllables aloud. His boys are nothing now and what might be left behind is little more than dust and broken bones, tufts of fur in wolf scat and cries that echo in his ears at night.
OOC // Sorry for the delay. @Kiada @Kianzo