Hushed Willows When I was a kid, I couldn't afford a soul

Valiant had not spent much time with the other wolves of the willows. Mainly he'd thrown his lot in with them so that he could continue to lay claim to his childhood home. Part of him still insisted on feeling a little bitter toward them, but that was quickly being replaced by utter bewilderment.

But it was worth it, he thought, if it would mean he could still be welcome in his homeland. Even if it meant nights by the waterside were sometimes interrupted by his strange new packmates.

"Hello," he ventured when he saw one of them making her way down the waterway he was lounging in. Silt and pebbles swirled as he got to his feet, and his coat dripped brown and grey at his belly, while his head and neck remained dry and white.