Whitefish River keep your head up

and although saarthal never claimed to be an angel — she knew she was far from one — she still tried to, you know, be good. be honest, be kind, be nice and inclusive and considerate. but she was not perfect, and though a rather large part of her brain yelled no, stop, dude you can't do that, a larger part screamed you have to, if you want a chance with her, you have to, you have to stop her now. the tug of jealousy in the pit of her gut was larger than the guilt in her heart, thus allowing the words to spill from her lips smoothly, an easy smile on her lips, her features betraying none of the self-interest saarthal bore. "i think," she said carefully with a cant of her head, "that anyone in our little group right now would've done that. any good wolf would've done that." saarthal shrugged, " i guess it depends on what you think." please don't, please don't, please don't say she's special. 

i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry.