Whitefish River all I need is to be struck

It should be acknowledged that Dulce did not entirely want to say what she said next, but she did anyway. In fact, she wanted to stay as far from what was said as possible, but that wouldn’t have been appropriate. You’re a pack wolf now, she thought to herself, You have to act like one. 

Do you want some? Dulce asked, biting back her apprehension, There’s a pack here. We’re new, but we’re big. Winter is coming and wolves are, bigger? No, better with numbers. I think you would fit in. It didn’t matter what the girl was really like; as Evergreen had said, they were all misfits anyway. My name is Abeja, but you can call me Dulce.