Tamlin got so good at pretending he didn’t know his brother was lurking nearby that he actually forgot for a moment. Forgot that that was why he was talking to and about Thorn the Third so much. It’s when the branch snaps and he turns to spy that very familiar form that he remembers - and that he has an excuse to stop pretending. He leaves his wolves and trots over through the Tephra foliage to where that first and best brother was.

“Thorn! Where’ve you been you bast--” The curse dies on Tamlin’s tongue for two reasons - first because he likes both of his parents too much to make a snide comment like that, and because he gets a good look at his brother’s chest. For a moment, his eyes just bulge out of his face a little bit, watching the fresh blood drip down his brother’s legs.

This is so different than the world Tamlin lives in, so much violent than the bubble he has cocooned himself in here in Tephra. He doesn’t even go with the wolves when they hunt and instead comes around after they have been satiated.

His parents had warned him, but seeing it is so much worse than he had pictured. He had just figured Thorn had a splash of red on him.

“Damn that’s gross.” And with that, he recovers. His smile returns, soft and touched with concern - but the curiosity is setting in too. “Does it hurt? I bet mom freaked. Is that why you’ve been sulking and not coming around? You know I hang out with wolves, right? They could smell the blood better than I could and I had to keep them from going to seek out the source.”