Silver Moraine his garden at argenteuil

A part of Saena, recently awakened by her mate's betrayal and the loss of three pack wolves, desires to flex her muscles and endanger herself for a thrill. She almost does it, too. Her shoulders tense and her paws press firmly against the stone and had she a tail, it would be lashing. Alas, a much larger part of her knows this is foolishness and that she is acting rashly. Her pregnancy prevents her from going further with the plan and just as Renoir speaks in a tongue quite unlike any she's heard, the alpha female straightens and banishes her aggression as best she can.

"No," she curtly reveals, but she almost wishes he had. Then her foolish need for a rush might be satisfied. Pressing back her ears, she averts her eyes from Renoir and mumbles a rough, "sorry," for her behaviour. "My pack is near to here and a lot has happened lately," she tacks on, an unsatisfactory explanation for acting like a total bitch. Renoir is close to it but he isn't encroaching on it and for her to behave differently is unfair of her.

She flopped her hindquarters down on the moraine and peered back up at the effeminate wolf. "I can't let you get any closer to it," she tells him, "unless you've an intent to join us." Her attempts at recruiting in the past have amounted to nothing and the current tenants of the maple wood have been collected by chance, so she expects Renoir to decline as so many others have, but Saena leaves the suggestion out there just in case.