Duck Lake hollow ashes

Maybe it was just in her head, but he seemed to relax somewhat and it made her feel slightly less on edge. Still, her muscles remained tense as she was ready to flee if she would need to. She was no fool; experience had taught her -- I have taught you, dearest -- that she could trust no one, no matter how friendly they seemed. At least he didn't offer her any food, like he had.

Taking a walk. That seemed harmless enough. Laurel thought back to when she had first met the dark coywolf, when she had been splashing around in the water and said it was fun when he didn't understand. Now she was the one who didn't seem to understand the concept of fun. How ironic.

He remained polite, though she remembered vividly how the coywolf had been polite before he had shown the darker side of his face. She wasn't convinced, remained tense, though her tail curled back down to stay at ease -- but her hackles remained raised to betray her fear.

He didn't mean to startle her. Well, you failed at that, didn't you? Laurel said, her voice snappy. She'd never been polite before, though she had been more open to others and a lot more playful before all of this happened. Now only the snappy part of her was left, with the fun part nowhere to be found. He introduced himself. I'm Laurel. She didn't sound like she cared to give her name, as though it was just a thing for her to fling around and not anything that had value to her. Where do you live? Hopefully he lived in a pack.