Lost Creek Hollow pepsi can

Harlyn's eyes widened and then narrowed in surprise at his reaction to her movement away from him.  There was such violence in his pale frame that it took her by surprise.  Yes, she had expected the anger, but in that moment she saw further into his darkness at the extent he seemed drawn towards acting upon his rage.  It frightened her, but she was an alpha and would not show it to a subordinate, even her best friend.  Her hackles rose as she braced herself, not vocally meeting his challenge, but preparaing herself for it anyway even though part of her could not, would not believe that he would ever hurt her.

The moment was gone in an instant, and she was left with only the brush of his tail on her muzzle and the charge of heat as he swept away from her.  Harlyn's eyes found his as he looked back at her.  His words softened her until she was no more than a forlorn pup standing in his wake as he disappeared.  Had she known his inner monologue, known that he was hurt thinking she had rejected him again, she would have been better positioned to respond.  As it was, she had no idea that he considered this moment another burn of rejection.  In her mind, that ship had sailed, and the children in her belly were proof enough of that truth.

Harlyn had her mate waiting at home for her, but she took Luke's place along the side of the stream and settled down anyway.  The confrontation had left her feeling dizzy and miserable, and she would not return to Mordecai in that state.  This was something she needed to let herself feel now, for as long as she needed for it to fade, until the only way it existed was in the memory of the woods that had borne it witness.

She lowered her head, and prayed.