Hushed Willows I wake up screaming from dreaming one day I'll watch as you're leaving

They had shared more in common than he realized. With that revelation a gentleness softened his expression. The seriousness retained, but the cautionary nature replaced with empathy. He had given her a new word with which to understand her own experience. If he hadn't the collective experience of his pack, how would he have felt? This consideration took the forefront of his attention.

It's seems that you met some good-willed ones. I'm happy that you still have Blossom with you. A consolation, even if it was meager when compared to the magnitude of such an event. He was careful not to speak on Reverie's previous husband. The look in Reverie's eyes told him it was a delicate matter.

The gilded woman then turned eyes of sunlight to him. The gaze of inner reflection starting to round in horror and he was swift to answer her question before it took root.

No—no. I was never taken from my home. He leaned down and brought a paw to an ear, toes brushing against the tag. Where I'm from a lot of wolves—not just me or my family—actually have these things. 'Tags' is the word we use. Wolves that have them aren't taken away, but humans point these longs sticks to put a wolf into a deep sleep before putting these on. They don't approach us when we're awake.

He straightened out his posture before continuing, We don't know why they do it but they seem to have an idea on who's important in the local packs. A lot of leaders and parents have them. The makings of a smile creased his eyes. His tone uplifted with a scandalous note. You know, I think they're just trying to tell folk apart where I'm from. I got my tags and shortly after they got my dad too. But he got tags and a collar. He was absolutely fuming!