Wild Rye Fields Thunderstorms, Clouds, Snow and a Slight Drizzle

“Eh. I make do.”

Reyes gave a little self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head at the soft declaration. He wasn’t going to tell the little white wolf he was wrong,, because shit, since joining Wild Rye Fields, he’d made some kind of effort – and truth but told, he gave a shit (a lot more than a shit, really) about what happened to Cottongrass. Sure, the delta was sort of…odd, but after a while, it became charming. He liked the kid. He wanted the kid to do well. That’s all there was to it.

But this was about as far was it was going to get, as far as being palsy-walsy was going to get.

“I got your back, kid. Just remember that.”

Thankfully, Cotton didn’t seem to insistent on continuing this little feelings fest, either, and the older wolf was more than happy to comply with his request. “Yeah, yeah. Lead the way,” he rumbled softly, content to fall into step with the white male. There was no need for dominance displace, a fluffed coat, or raised tail, despite the difference in rank. Cotton was a good wolf. He was a friend. And despite all the protests he’d made out loud, up until this point, Reyes had no intention of ruining that.

Exit.