Greatwater Lake wrapped them in "I don't owe you a damn thing"

He eyes her warily, almost senses the shiver coursing down her spine and she doesn’t even meet his eyes — he knows she’s scared of him after that. It truly makes him wonder where most of these wolves (and wolf dogs) are from. Those who aren’t used to war, or hardened by battles. Those who don’t have a lust for blood and death. He wonders what he’d be like if he weren’t raised a Saint and maybe raised by another pack in his land with a much nicer reputation. Perhaps he’d be different, maybe he’d stay the same, who knows. 

Still as the smaller finally looks up, he knows it’s forced and he almost feels bad for scaring her; almost. “Most of them did.” Is all he gives her. Purposely leaving room for her frightened mind to roam.

Then she’s quickly changing the subject and he lets her. He shouldn’t be frightening her on a night like this. Yet it continues to blow his mind that there aren’t as many out there like him as he initially thought. Now though, she speaks of the stars and he allows his gaze to wander up towards the shimmering lights. They truly are beautiful, breathtaking; even though he’s seen them just about every night that he’s been on this earth. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of them.

Finally after a long few seconds his baritone voice cuts through the song of the crickets and other nightly creatures. “I love the stars. They’re beautiful.” He hums pleasantly. “Seen them every night four three years and I still don’t get tired of them.”