Shadowwyn Moor beauty was your armor

to fulfill a contract, information is needed—not that alamar desires trudging his feet deeper than he needs to. if he could, he would ignore the possibility of joining a pack as long as necessary. his trust in others, much less those with authority and greed, are minimal. the mere thought leaves him agitated.
so what better to do than distract himself away with the excuse of needing to feed himself and jaime—who’s suffered from an injury to his forearm? surely the responsibility is thrusted upon his shoulders to make sure they have breakfast on the table.
slender bulk crouched in preparation, he darts from the brush, not expecting the much larger wolf in his tracks for his focus had been on a vole. shit! he curses, putting on his brakes.