Northstar Vale A non-fiction fantasy

His question sent her into a baffled state. Did the wolves of Porcupine Ridge merely take in who they could, no matter their physical or mental constitution? Diane found herself doubting this, but how could her situation not reflect this? Hadn't Taggarik found her cold and cowering beneath a tree, stuttering and uncertain, and offered her a home? She found herself shrugging at the sharp-faced male. "Everyone else I've met there so far are strong, and full of confidence—none of them are like me, I think." She clearly didn't think very much of herself, if at all. "I'm doing this so that I fit in. I.. I don't want to be the weak link." Which was a nuisance, as far as she was concerned.

The scent grew stronger as they moved together, a well-oiled machine that had never operated before. But they were yet a ways from the source. "You're alone," she commented, speaking both in a literal sense and in the abstract manner that referred to the fact his coat carried neither the scent of a home or of a single companion. "Do you like it? ...Being alone?" her question came quietly, her voice timid. There might be a reason he was alone—something painful that she could be touching on—something she knew of all too well.