Phoenix Maplewood princess no more

Per usual, Luke was never far from the birthing den. He roamed nearby, attempting to rid himself of the acheyness that had settled across his shoulders and back. The tension from a quick series of events was stubborn about leaving him; but it was his own fault. The white wolf was struggling immensely to find his balance and to ground himself, his contentment was fleeting and his anger bubbled too near the surface. His want of control was strong, but even more troubling was how much he liked having it. It bothered him, and his brows bore the creases of disturbed thoughts and the rampant fear that his unstable self could wreck everything.

He spotted a packmate, one unknown to him, courting the fringes of the denning area, a plump grouse in tow. He bristled immediately, took a step forward even, but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop. Drawing a deep breath, he had an inward conversation with himself, and then approached as neutrally as he could muster. "Hey," he said, unable to form a smile.