Shadowwyn Moor It came gently calling

He noticed the shift in her countenance, how her ears fell back when he shared his thoughts with her. He wondered if she felt it, too, that understanding shared by those who knew what it was to be alone.

Turmeric knew he had asked much of her - and that they had only known one another for a few short minutes. But she opened up, and he felt his own heart flutter. He met her gaze with gentle encouragement.

So she had been alone almost all her life. Forgotten, and left behind. It was his turn for his ears to fall back, and he offered a soft, I'm sorry, though not enough to interrupt these weighty things she shared with him. They were hardly enough to make up for the years she'd felt like those trees on the moor.

He knew what it was to lose a sibling, a friend; he knew what it was to be left behind.

But she accentuated her story with the hope she had uttered before, and he smiled a warm smile, even as his eyes felt as though they must look sad, even as she met him with a bashful look. He felt his cheeks flush.

It sounds like you're in a good place now, he said, and he meant it. His ears splayed, I should be like the trees in this copse. I have a pack and a mother who loves me, he sighed when he thought of her, and he dropped his gaze, but I feel more like the trees on the moor even when I'm with them. And not like the kind you described. I feel hopeless, even though I'd like to feel hopeful... I've had wolves leave me, too... he shook himself and offered her a half-smile, so I admire the strength you have, to keep going, to still see things for what beautiful things they could be. I know I've only known you for a little bit, but I can hear that hope in your voice. To be that tree that gives itself to others, even though so much was taken from you. One day I'd like to be like that, too. I just don't know if I'm there yet.