11 hours ago
“It might be,” Aivar said with a cold, mirthless smile. “And I'm not your brother,” he added, lifting his head. Figure of speech or no, no stranger was going to be using such a familiar term with him. It reminded him too much of Aryn, and the memory was an antler tine to the heart.
“You smelled blood huh? Do you make a habit of patching up injured birds then?” The stormcoat cocked a brow. He was giving this stranger the benefit of the doubt, because the way he worded it, it sounded an awful lot like he didn't know what kind of blood it was. And maybe he didn't. Maybe his nose was broken, or maybe he really was some avian medic.
“You can call me Aivar, Nate Ronan,” he said with a sniff.
“You smelled blood huh? Do you make a habit of patching up injured birds then?” The stormcoat cocked a brow. He was giving this stranger the benefit of the doubt, because the way he worded it, it sounded an awful lot like he didn't know what kind of blood it was. And maybe he didn't. Maybe his nose was broken, or maybe he really was some avian medic.
“You can call me Aivar, Nate Ronan,” he said with a sniff.
