Whitebark Stream Lumiere, darling.

With his mate's words there came a stirring in his chest, a happy little flutter of his heart as it skipped a beat. What good had he done in his lifetime to have earned such a she-wolf to share this remainder with him? Each day she gave him reason to carry on, something worth coming home to.

"Hmm," he closed his eyes, exhaled a soft breath, and leaned into the sterling huntress' affection. She chose him, as he chose her. Their mateship had happened so suddenly, as had their admission of love, and although Artyom at times felt afraid that he would be forced to sacrifice it once more, he enjoyed the part he played in its growth.

Long may it be so.

She spoke again, and an earthen eye cracked open with a mischievous glimmer. "Yes," he answered with a beat of laughter, as he moved in attempt to shoulder her onto the ground beneath him - so he might pepper her chin and throat in playful kisses, "just a while!"