Fox's Glade Impulse

it was a call specifically for him that drew val in that day. he knew its originator very little, and at first urgency hastened his steps. he could only assume she called because someone was hurt — but the more he ran, the more val became aware her tune was too… sensual to be one of emergency.

the lilting song, the rosy scent that announced her season — if such things warmed his blood, it was what he heard next that left him cold.

between a husband and a widower, the one that remains is a fool. surely that was not directed at him, right? val’s pace slowed, a frown coming to life on his dark features. hard to find a good man anywhere anyway nowadays.

val barely knew either of these women, but he knew this: he had bled for ursus. what personal sacrifice had either put on the line to be so critical of his person?

is that how little you think of me? val asked quietly, coming to face the two women. while he did not know the misshapen wolf’s name, it was she his gaze rested upon — and she that he challenged by the slight lift of his chin.