Ravensblood Forest you found me and i found you

Lotte listens quietly as Arturo begins to speak of his eldest children, her broad muzzle pillowed upon the ashen ruff that rings her throat as she watches with rapt attention the subtle changes in his black-masked face. His richly accented timbre is music to her ears, and the way his expression softens and warms as he speaks of children enchants her. She smiles when he does, laughs when he does — and it is not a farce but an honest mirroring of his mirth, reflected back to him in equal measure. It pleases her that Arturo does not cling too tightly to his children; she abhors the idea of keeping one’s offspring close and closeted until they no longer know how to navigate the world alone and hopes that her children will be as independent as she and her siblings have grown to be. “Chusi is not bad,” she protests gently, misunderstanding his use of the word. “Headstrong and defiant, yes — perhaps she became your heir too soon.”

Oddly enough, although Lotte searches herself for vestiges of jealousy and spite toward Duana, she can find none. She supposes that her jealousy toward Olive exists mainly because the woman is vividly present, the swell of her pregnancy and the cloying thickness of her sweet, milky scent constant reminders to the competitive rogue that she is second place when it comes to this particular race. “I am glad,” she says sleekly, almost smugly, “that we found pleasure in one another before my heat cycle.” Her wily, feminine smile and half-lidded eyes sparkle with frank sensuality. Lazily, her thoughts circle back around to Chusi. She does not share the same level of concern as Arturo does, and that is probably to be expected; Arturo is speaking from a conflicting place as both the girl’s adopted father and her Ceannasach.

“A wolf who cannot commit to Teaghlaigh’s tenets cannot be its heir,” she says in a deceptively mild tone. “Any wolf. Ceannasach’s word is law — and Chusi is not just our daughter. She is a young woman now, old enough to be considered fully grown where I am from, and so you are not just her father but her Ceannasach.” Lotte smiles up at her black-masked love. “Lærke is Dagfinn’s and my isoveli — our big brother — and we would not be Ansbjørns if we had not heckled him mercilessly at every turn. At the end of the day, though, he was our commander — and if he gave us an order, we obeyed it.” Lotte and Dagfinn weren’t as willful in their youth as Chusi seems to be, but the fact remains. “She would benefit from a task or a goal,” Lotte muses. “I want the children from my body to see the world and challenge limits and climb mountains and swim in the sea — I want the same for Chusi.” Shyness puts shadows in her silver eyes as she looks up at her mate. “I know you do not like mountains,” she says, “but I told her I would teach her to climb in the spring. I think it would be better to teach her and be there to watch her than if she tried to learn on her own.”

She summed up with, “If Chusi is defiant, she should be put to work. If she wishes to climb mountains, I will see that she trains her muscles until she is strong enough; if she wishes to defend Dakarai and Olive’s actions, she should be made to explain her position — and to do the grunt work of bringing them food and helping learn to care for their ills. She does not understand that her choices have physical consequences.” Lotte shook her head. “The wolves of these wilds are so soft — especially the females. They would not last a day in the Enok Tundra.”