i am not your autumn moon

He smelled her before he saw her, and immediately a pall of dread washed over him. He wasn't ready to face any of this bullshit just yet. Wherever Hawkeye went, it was a safe bet to assume that Peregrine wouldn't be far behind. He grimaced.

Might as well get it over with.

When she came into view, though, she was by herself. He didn't detect his brother's scent anywhere nearby, though that didn't mean he wouldn't be along shortly. Atticus's pale eyes watched Hawkeye's approach warily before falling to linger on a bush nearby. He was tense, rigid, though not from the same emotions that had made him that way when last they had met. No, those feelings weren't there anymore. This was his brother's mate now. Hawkeye was a good-looking wolf, and a strong and desireable female, but Atticus had no desire for Peregrine's sloppy seconds (and, perhaps, thinking of Hawkeye in these terms was an indication that some of the anger that he felt for Peregrine spilled over onto Hawkeye as well). "Hello," he said, his voice stiff with cordiality.