Moonspear one night the clock struck twelve

The words, off into the air, were met with a surprised look upon his face as he peered out from a bush to find not Mira, but another. An apology swept across his features then, ears fanning back against the dark hood of his head as he fumbled briefly to find words that would somehow make up for his error; he hadn’t meant to startle someone, but then again… who was she?

“Oh, uh,” he faltered, “I’m sorry, I thought you were my sister.”

She was dark, like his mother, but not quite the same pitch that coated her and some of his siblings. She was meek, not imbued with a headstrong attitude that he had come to associate with many that resided in their pack. And perhaps most importantly, they were about the same age if he had to guess—still all legs, but heavily marked with the shapes and sizes that would follow them long into their adulthood.

He emerged fully from his cover, nose working to ascertain who she was. He smelled his father, his aunt, and a smattering of others. She was definitely apart of them in some way, but he didn’t know her—she must have been new. Maybe one of those new kids he had recalled being told about but not quite listening to what was being said.

“Who are you? I’m Altair… and… cool, that you won’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to be out here and you probably aren’t either I’m guessing. I wanted to go check out the borders,” he went on, gesturing off into the darkness behind him. He offered her a smile—maybe this would make up for it: “You can come if you want.”