peregrine did not need to thank lasher; the earthen wolf was content, fulfilled, to be the one to whom the devil turned for his emotional and physical sustenance. and so he was silent, enjoying silently the feel of peregrine's muzzle, the press of their bodies next to one another, the entanglement of their mutual hearts. love was not a word lasher took lightly; to worship, to serve, to enslave oneself to the witch was quite different from what he deemed to be the most precious of emotions.
siku he had loved, and now it seemed his heart would open with such a chasm again, for one who was not witch but man, his own grief weaving a fine gossamer web that ensnared lasher and endeared him to the panther completely. turning his head, the delta ran his tongue gently along the bridge of peregrine's muzzle, sated in their closeness and in the moment's lull.