Black Morass Do you ever feel like falling for someone you never thought of falling for?

The boy shifted from foot to foot with his eyes glued on the swaying links around Absalom's throat. "What's scourge?" he wondered, having never heard such a word—the Blackfeather wolves didn't use such negative terminology to refer to themselves, though truthfully, their entire order probably fit the definition. His indigo eyes tracked the end of the chain for several beats long, then flicked back up to the stranger's nose.

"Brother and sister," he shared, unashamed of his heritage and equally unabashed about admitting it to a complete stranger. It was true that Ramsay had, in his deepest darkest corners, a bit of a complex regarding his strange appearance when it was questioned, but so many wolves had simply accepted him for what he was that he didn't know how it felt to be ostracized. There was a distinct lack of judgment or questioning among the Blackfeather wolves that lent him the ability to not take offense.

That wouldn't last much longer, though.