Whitewater Gorge gerald's game

The white wolf was severely startled by his arrival. She had already been uneasy with the other female there, but he had sent her fearfully over the edge, and he watched her dart away with a darkening expression on his face. His disappointment was palpable, the hard set to his shoulders loosening to accommodate the unfortunate feeling growing in the pit of his deep chest— and though the emotion swelled, it left him with a vast emptiness he couldn't identify as something he had experienced before. This sort of thing was the bulk of the reason he had kept to himself for so long.

Olive eyes rolled to the small, chestnut she-wolf now, expecting much of the same from her. The scent of a pack clung loosely to her as well, old as if she had not been home in a while, but there nonetheless. He wondered at her, but did not speak, prepared not to waste his breath on a wolf that might flee.