She paced along the borders. The sun hung low in the sky, though it was early yet—with autumn, the days grew shorter and the nights longer. She had felt that more than ever the past few weeks, determined to make her way home.
Home was with Kisetra. Home was with Deacon. And while the fields did not feel like home, she owed her loyalty to Jessie, Laike and Adelayde. Her travel had meant to be quick, and this time she had taken the care to discuss it with the others before she left to Everfrost Ridge, eager to tell the wolves who had welcomed her so graciously before what had happened at her birth pack, had wanted to inform her best friends. They had not taken her presence so graciously this time, and the she-wolf bore the mark to prove so, a gaping ridge of puckered skin along her nape and shoulder, where pale honey and white fur would no longer grow.
It was healed, but she was still stiff.
Her tongue slipped over her lips, her green eyes alight as they sought any familiar form—particularly that of her daughter. Weeks had far passed, and her trip had extended far past any time she had been comfortable with. Kisetra... she would have grown so much.
It took all she had not to bound her way over the borders and find her way to her daughter and the man who had sired her. Just breathe, she murmured quietly to herself, forcing her form to flatten to the ground in assumed submission. They would find her. The wolves of the field were a vigorous bunch.
are you deranged like me? are you strange like me?
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?