How like Urolf (Feyrwarl) looked, except that his face had been used in quite a different way, thought Wycan, noting the laughter lines around his eyes.
Feyrwarl wasn’t smiling now.
“You rejected your own son, you presumably caused his death … You split our clan and wrecked these woods in a fit of pique. You are not fit to rule.”
Everyone snapped to.
Wycan looked around. A fight was coming. His hand went to his belt.