Bearclaw Valley quicksilver cruel

His parting statement surprised her, though he would never see that reaction with the way that he moved on. Dumbfounded, she stood there for a moment as he moved on—did he really mean that? Or were his expectations of her so low that he imagined she wouldn't go along? Far too used to not being included, she had mistakenly presumed the same would resume here—how wrong she must have been.

It was enough to spur her into action to fall in behind him, this time with a renewed worry that she may be left behind after all. Are you sure, she wanted to ask, but the words did not make it from her mouth. Of course he was sure, wolves like him were never anything but sure. Stalwart figures meant for the grandiose, for the action; he had been right to presume that she was for much more dainty things because that was the corner she had always drawn herself into. Soft and meek, too good natured for their own good. The very things that had seemingly held her back, but she strove to do more than just idly sit by.

"All right then," she chirped from behind him. She was glad, unable to hide it, just to be included. Valued in some sense when she had not for quite a long time. For all her innocence, she knew an opportunity when she saw one, and she intended to learn.