Arrow Lake like paper love

Stigmata would always hold a delicate thread of awareness from the she-wolf. His presence was like jolting electricity, and while she saw the dark shadow stalk toward the waters from the corner of her eye, the only indication she gave of her assessment to his presence was a certain stiffening, her bright eyes refusing to sweep toward him in that given moment.

It was not a moment of shunning, brought abruptly by anger, or consumed grief. It was simply the state of note knowing. Had she dreamed his protective presence during her feverish hours after her return? During those moments as her body tried to repair the damage that had been wrought upon it physically, her heart had mended itself with the disillusion that his guard had meant his heart had perhaps awoken to her, despite his earlier insistence he was not made for such an act. In the wake of light, she had felt the reality seep back to her bones and bring the daydream back to the hallowed earth. Those moments had been nothing more than the Alpha male looking over one of his injured subordinates—a true testament to why she did, in the end, respect he and Mahler both.

She could see the man plow to the ground—his legs splayed in a manner that begged for her interaction, and she felt further confused by the docile approach of the shadowed king. She allowed her eyes to sweep over him then, ignoring the burning pain of her misused muscles.

Slowly, feeling she had at least accomplished at washing away much of the grime that clung to her, the pale woman began to wade to the shallow banks of the lake where her stalwart General waited for her, deference flanking her form, despite the position he currently settled in.