Witch's Marsh Oh [m]y God, she looks so helpless, and her body's saying: "Hell yes."

The shock was to be expected, given who his attacker was. Of all the wolves that lived within the woods, Cicero was, perhaps, the least to be suspected. He acted defensively, not aggressively, and yet... he shook his head, willing the memory away. He didn’t want to remember it anymore, nor did he want to see the older male’s face whenever he closed his eyes at night. The nightmares had lessened considerably, but they still occurred, forcing him to relive the moment over and over again. He could find distractions here and there, but nothing was permanent. What hurt the most was not knowing why it had happened, and how someone he’d once thought he could trust had been able to betray him in such a way.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “He kept saying that I would remember, that I knew what I had done but—” His voice cracked and a feeling of panic started to set in. “I didn’t do anything to him, I swear…” His voice was hardly a whisper, just as quiet as it’d been in the cave. Never had he done anything to the male that could justify his actions, he was certain of that much.