Galen didn’t like it when people acted cold and unfeeling toward others. Almost nothing could get his dander up faster than seeing people mistreat others, even if it wasn’t physical. The only thing that made him angrier was losing comrades in battle.

Then there was no one to really target the anger at and he would have to move away from others so he wouldn’t take his frustration out on them. Solitude was a luxury little afforded to captains however. When something happened to a squad member, duty directed that he be among his people, not by himself.

Therefore, as they planted the trees that would commemorate their late captain and others who the wolves had taken, Galen was among the crowd of mourners and not far from them as he would wish to be. If he had been, he might not have heard the callous remarks made by the captain of the Quail Division.

“Crying won’t bring them back,” he said in a reasonable, calm tone. “At times like these we need to keep our minds on those who still live.”

Galen glared up at the older man and shook his head. “The tears we cry aren’t for our fallen comrades, but for ourselves. We’ll miss them. Grieving is a part of moving on. Feelings, like sadness, anxiety and anger, are natural at times like these. If you can’t understand that then at least be quiet. No one asked for your input.”

“Anger, like your feeling?” Adrien snapped. His face was flushed and his eyes narrow. It was plain that he didn’t like the younger captain telling him what to do.

“And yourself,” Galen agreed. “You don’t like being told to be quiet, especially by someone half your age. I don’t like people being cold toward others, or losing friends. Maybe we should just avoid each other at times like these.” He stalked off into the gardens, seeking the calm that solitude might bring.

“Maybe so,” Adrien murmured after he was gone.