Otatso Wetlands Break free and leave us in ruins

Each step came quicker now than the last, urged by a biological imperative Stag had only once felt before. Differently, then, too -- the night Phaedra had come close to drowning, and returned to him with the scent of urine surrounding her. Of that fiercely paternal instinct, Stag had only gotten a sliver of a taste -- but this one was distinctly different, though very much cut from a similar progenitor's cloth.

This type of instinct shared only one thing in common, and it was protectiveness -- the rest awoke something in the boy he had not previously been aware of.

Not interested, came Wylla's voice. Snow sprayed in a pale spume as Stag hit the brakes before them, ears splayed and tail held over his hips in alarm. A wolf stood before her, in many ways his superior; older, healthier, possessed of a silvery grey pelt with winsome cream and chocolate stippling it. And here Stag was, pumped with adolescent hormones, gangly as all hell and hardly more than a fresh cockerel in a yard full of roosters --

Still, his hackles flared as he assessed the situation. Something in his mind urged him to crowd Wylla, to snake her away from this man -- but he stayed the urge, for she was plenty capable of handling herself and wrecking his face in the process.

If he wasn't yet feeling entirely conflicted by his confusing feelings, the wolf that arrived shortly before him was enough to throw Stag's confidence to the sharks. Mahler -- that grim, loveless man -- evoked feelings in Stag even more confusing than Wylla's scent.

For one, Mahler had been the sole progenitor of all of their unhappiness in these long months. He had loved the man, but even then Stag could recognize how heavy a hand Mahler had played in the dissolution of his home. A brackish taste lingered on his lips as Stag aligned himself near Wylla self-consciously, teeth baring as a low growl sounded from his throat intended not only for Zane, but Mahler too.