Altar of Twilight Never had so[M]eone to call my own

Heph turned to see the other wolf more clearly. He was handsome, she had noticed that before, whether it was because of or in spite of his scars she could not be sure, but it was noticeable. She could tell that he was forcing his expression and tone if only because the buzz of tension pregnant in the air did not match the even set of his shoulders and casual drift of his voice. What exactly that feigned neutrality concealed was just as unreadable as the electricity that prickled at the end of her fur but just as palpable.

She watched Atka's reaction, the casual physical intimacy, her claim, and heard the surety in her voice. While it was expected she could not help the turn of her head as she watched. Though she was not angry or jealous of the wolf Atka has chosen to stand by she could not help but feel momentarily bereft. Her gaze followed the white wolf, intent, but snapped back to the pair, resting non-confrontationally somewhere around their shoulders. "I'm not sure the forsaken and I have much to offer one another." Her voice carried traces of her old humor, bubbling up around some of the vowels lighthearted. She was not masterfully skilled and liked to wander, she doubted that any pack would be happy to have such a wolf or would offer her what she wanted in turn.