Bran "The Marrok" Cornick személy

Bran put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me on the forehead, then ruined it by saying, “Let the boys take care of this, eh, Mercedes?”
“Sure thing,” I said, stepping away from him. “Take care, Bran.”
I stalked around the front of the bus. The only reason I wasn’t muttering under my breath was because the werewolves would all hear what I was saying.

“Fools,” he said, loud enough that everyone in the church would hear him.
Bran laughed. “Come sit down before you scare them all silly. I’m not a politician to worry about what they think of me, as long as they obey.”

Zee relaxed and made a quick movement that my eyes didn’t quite follow, but after which his sword was gone. “I warned him not to come back,” said Zee, and he glanced at Sherwood. “I’ve seen you fight before. What did you say your name was?”
Sherwood gave him a half smile. “Sherwood Post.”
Zee blinked at him. “That sounds like a fence built by Robin Hood.”
“Don’t ever forget your name when Bran is around,” I told Zee. “I figure Sherwood got away lightly. Just think if Bran had been reading Moby-Dick and The Old Man and the Sea instead. Sherwood could have been Herman Hemingway.”
“Or what if he had been reading Louis L’Amour?” asked Mary Jo. “Sherwood L’Amour would have doomed you to stripper jokes for the rest of your life.”

11. fejezet

„I've seen you fight before. What did you say your name was?”
Sherwood gave him a half smile. „Sherwood Post.”
Zee blinked at him. „That sounds like a fence built by Robin Hood.”
„Don't ever forget your name when Bran is around,” I told Zee. „I figure Sherwood got away lightly. Just think if Bran had been reading Moby-Dick and The Old Man and the Sea instead. Sherwood could have been Herman Hemingway.”

page 219

“You know,” said Samuel reflectively, “you just proved your point better by arguing against it than you did arguing for it. I wonder if that says anything about how your mind works.”
“Or yours,” said Bran, smiling despite himself. “I’m going out to check on Charles.”
“Good,” said Samuel. “Do you want me to come back?”
“No. Are you staying with Adam or Mercy?”
“I am your son,” he said smugly despite the underlying worry in his tone. “At Mercy’s, of course.”
Bran smiled as he hung up the phone.

“My grandfather would have loved to have met you,” he told her huskily. “He would have called you ‘She Moves Trees Out of His Path.’ ”
She looked lost, but his da laughed. He’d known the old man, too.
“He called me ‘He Who Must Run into Trees,’ ” Charles explained, and in a spirit of honesty, a need for his mate to know who he was, he continued, “or sometimes ‘Running Eagle.’ ”
“ ‘Running Eagle’?” Anna puzzled it over, frowning at him. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Too stupid to fly,” murmured his father with a little smile.

“She told me I wasn’t hearing what you were saying,” his da said. “I told her that I heard you tell me quite clearly that I was an idiot for going to Seattle to meet with the European delegation—as did most of the rest of the pack.”
Tactful, that’s me, thought Charles, who decided sipping his cocoa was better than opening his mouth.

And that right there was one of the differences between Adam and Bran. Bran kept his eye on the end game. Adam understood the end game all right, but to him, the people mattered more than the game.
The werewolves needed Bran, who could make the tough choices to make sure they survived. I needed Adam because he would never abandon someone who loved him, the way that Bran had abandoned us. Abandoned me. Twice.