The Heartwood chasing visions of our futures

Snow was quiet. Dreven wasn't quite sure if that was good or not. She was a quiet wolf actually most of the time, he often wondered at it. Even he was a talker if the occasion called for it.

His brow furrowed as she began to speak. He knew the no direction well enough. And his goal after his former pack was just to survive. He didn't want to die. He snorted in derision. I didn't exactly have a good picture of a healthy pack life, or families in general growing up.

You and me both.

Dreven wouldn't tell Snow of his family, mostly because it would cause her unrest to know some of the things his own blood had done to him. Or perhaps cause her to fear that he would do the same, he wouldn't, but that color of dysfunction, well it didn't come off, real easy. It was like a stain or a wound that never healed. Dreven had never been sure who he had looked like. His mother had been a white thing with red eyes, pink nose. He had inherited her demon eyes and his father. He had been large and brown and stocky once upon a time, but hard living and abuse had turned him into a shell.

Dreven was confused for a moment. I am fine either way Snow. It's not my body that's going to change with younglings. It's yours. But what do you mean you could lose something?

That was the part that confused him. He didn't understand how she would lose something unless she meant her figure, or her peace? Cause children did take up a lot of time, but then one day they'd be gone. And it would be her and him again, unless she meant just that, that they may be lost. And truth be told, he probably wasn't father material. He was savage and mean, brutal, lust incarnate. Those were not very good things to teach children.