Little Goat Mountain the red string of fate tugs at my heart

The dark pelaged female doesn’t stand in alarm like he expected her to. For some reason he has that type of effect on some wolves. Though even as her gaze hits hers, he’s still astounded by those fiery orange eyes. To bright and beaming with life, beautiful. They remind him of Simmik’s. For some unexplainable reason, he pushes the thoughts of the she wolf to the back burner — even if it’s only for now.

He’s speaking with a different she wolf. A stranger and he smiles as she finally speaks. So she doesn’t come here often. Huh, weak one liner he supposes. Though a try hard he is not. Shit like this comes naturally to him and, boy, does he like to dramatize things. He truly loves a show.

So he chuckles and he tilts his chin up at the other wolf. “First time? That’s fun.” He comments. “What happened to you to bring you here? Your pack die too?” He asks. Seems to be a norm here. Or maybe it’s just a Donovan and Nyra thing who knows.