Shadowwyn Moor its the soul that needs the surgery

He had not forgotten the promise to come back and visit her in three days, though he had wanted to. He kept careful watch on his children, maintained the pack borders and would gauge his mate’s temperament, which was never favorable. He and Bazi had not spoken for days now, and while the silence was unsettling, he was surprised at how easy the adjustment was.
 
And so, with radio silence from his mate, the cinnamon wolf determined he would see the silver siren one last time.. She had not taken him up on his offer to join their pack, and it spoke volumes to how far any form of a relationship (friendship or otherwise) would go between them.. and yet here he was, his creamy paws leading him to the moors.
 
He seen her. She seemed perfect against the autumn landscape. The days were cooling, though the leaves remained intact and rich in emerald hues.
 
Even as he watched her dip her muzzle in to the water and flick it upward in an arc of playfulness, his heart ached. He knew her for no more than an hour but she was devastatingly beautiful, kind and had haunted his dreams since he had first met her.
 
His stance becoming neutral, the large beast moved forward, closing the distance between the two.. and knowing that he should have been running the opposite direction.