Indru's subtle but telling reaction had not gone unmissed, and for the first time Marsh really wondered whether Indru saw him as a threat. For the life of him, Marsh could not see why, but he had blinkers on and was not able to fully comprehend what others may perceive of his peculiarities. As far as he was concerned, despite his bitter, irrational wishes otherwise, Indru was safe; it would take nothing less momentous than a very specific command from Corinna to do his second leader any harm, and that was as far as he could grasp.

Until that unlikely day, Marsh was to be as loyal to Indru as any other wolf could possibly be, particularly when they did not even share blood. Just how much did Indru want from him?

Marsh was used to rejection, but never from those whose acceptance he truly craved.

Afterwards came the tiny apologies, but the wolf did not want them. Apologies were no replacement. The permission came, and again Marsh whined, straining to be polite even as his chest festered with bitterness and confusion. With that, the stiffness fell from him and he turned away, expression painfully blank as he returned to the comfortable familiarity of the forest. Indru's scent followed him everywhere.

With great effort he sought to bury what had happened today, though he knew the wound would bleed for some time. Nobody would see it. Nobody would know.


Perhaps that command from Corinna would come, one day.