Whitefish River Summer dress

Stories for cubs, he clarified without patronising her. There was not exactly a textbook in existence for referencing such things, so there was no way to know unless told. His education had simply started early, as a DeMonte kitten himself. And teeny-tiny he'd been, hard as that was to believe at the rate he'd grown. Colossal reptilian creatures with monstrous wings, deadly spikes, claws and teeth, capable of breathing fire and spewing smoke. Altogether unpleasant to meet on a jaunty walk, he assured her, his expression tight-lipped and grim, shaking his head very slightly. He gave no indication that it was anything to laugh at.

Bagheera was not only acutely aware of his surroundings, but fairly self-aware as well. In passing, he considered the fact that he had given far more effort to define the concept of a fictional, legendary beast than he had to explaining where and from what circumstances he had come in the last year to anyone. Previously, he’d played the line of mercenary and no one had questioned the already daunting wolf further, nor had they needed to, as he’d played the part precisely. His service had been exceptional. Bagheera was glad of the fact that though Jinx had inevitably asked for reciprocation, as he knew she would, she had indulged him in his wish first.

He didn’t let a word slip by, and his powerful, heavier stride brought him to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with her along the fluent river. The feralhewn male listened to the recount of her early family life and reflected on how similar their origins were. Large families could be typical as such, with competition running fierce and ceaseless. In the end, only one dominant animal could thrive. More, and the potential for harmed relations was ever increased in frequency. This was exactly why Bagheera had fought tooth-and-nail to ground his brother, believing most in what was best for the entire organism, more than for himself. But the story had brought him here.

I stood guard for a pack in the mountains this past winter, to the south, a place called Splintered Spine. The mountains you indicate now were where my planned course was to lead, he confided easily, then turned his wild mahogany gaze towards the lone mountain she spoke of specifically, considering it carefully before he proceeded to uphold his end of the bargain he’d made for information. Coincidentally, not only are our paths similar, but our pasts. My brother and I were contenders right from the bloody moment we were born, and when our father died last year, the violent storm came to a head. We fought— he paused mid-sentence, jaw clenched, and more brutal than wounded pride and heart was knowing that the wrong wolf was leading Lilac Valley at that very moment, —and he bested me. I did not choose to leave, as you did. I was exiled.

There ended the first telling of that story by Bagheera DeMonte.

Looking at you now, I’m surprised you didn’t fight, he had the audacity to add. Perhaps she had and refused to recount it, but if that were the case, he would let her have her ending. It was not his to take. Or, perhaps her family had not been worth fighting for the way his had been. In any case, he put a pin in the knowledge of the other existing packs and continued to walk at her side.