Hushed Willows east of the sun

Throughout his young life, Valiant had adopted many labels — loner, wanderer, nomad, hunter, outsider — but romantic had never been one of them. Girls were still an uninviting mystery to him, even if he'd met a few he'd thought were rather pretty. He'd never given much thought to romance in general, aside from being assured that he would, one day, "Find a mate and proliferate!" as aunt Spot's saying went.

"I don't know about that," he said with a tiny grin, apparently finding the label quite funny. It did fit him, little did he know, but he was not quite introspective enough to think so. This smile faded quickly at the creature's next question, and he found he could not quite meet the man's gaze. "Well," he began, but seemed unable to carry on. He shut his mouth again and, after a moment, pushing himself back to his paws, too full of nervous energy to be still.

"It's just not supposed to be this way, is it?" he said delicately, his phrasing implying a question, but his tone leaving little room for argument. "I'm not supposed to — because I'm a man." This time, his tone suggested this statement was meant to clarify things. "But you... the fair folk, I mean — you have different rules, right? So it wouldn't be..." But by then, he was too ashamed to go on, still not quite ready to think about how well he liked the other wolf and all his sundries.