Wapun Meadow redemption has freed the burden from me

she was the first wolf mahler had met in these new lands, and within a few moments he had turned her away, her steps taut with a grave annoyance. perhaps it was a skill of his, to be so acerbic in manner that he would gather no bedfellows. and in his pride he went to present his spine to her, and continue on.
but the old bitch logic engaged; mahler knew he would get nowhere if he could not curb his tongue, or the manner in which he regarded all living things, save for himself. and thus the man stifled a weathered sigh, and called softly, "apologies, miss."
if her ruddy ears would but hear, she would see how rusted the edges of his words were with disuse and perhaps surprise that the first thing he had said in so long was intended to make amends. quietly, mahler waited, finding calm in the stillness.