Sleepy Fox Hollow live our lives like we're ready to die

For a ragged moment neither wolf moved. It was a flicker of supple muscles beneath coat that gave way the beta to her charge. Instinctively the spider wished to coil back, shift away and stifle the contact the bear-wolf sought. Why she desired it, after the incident in the cavernous labyrinth was beyond the inky Delta. Confusion rooted the animal in place, flesh rippling beneath the whimsical touch, uncertain of its context and unwilling to break its tenure along skin. Voice, once again bade the inky wolf to speak, a long silence catching rhythm of breaths as wicked touch burrowed into neck. 

Every inch of the spider prickled, senses heightened and heaving pants ripping to a close. Nostrils dared not inhale, unwilling to sink further into the aroma of the bear-wolf and the woeful path the spider was striding. The actions were not wholly unwelcome, but dangerous. Toxic. Beguiling. A hard swallow forced a halt of racing thoughts, suddenly aware that a question had transpired without any response. A flick of tail against nose finally coerced the inky wolf to inhale, shamefully so. Muscles along jawline clenched so tightly that corded sinew could be seen rippling beneath pristine fur.

What was there to say? What could possible satiate the conversation? 

"I struck an enemy," he admitted, features growing cold with an effort to block out the ragged thump of heart within throat. Not that the pup was much of an enemy. "Teach me your words." The request was rather blatantly blurted out, obscure efforts to evade the topic of enemies and war. There would be consequences, he imagined, at the instigation of maiming a neighboring wolf's young.