Firefly Glen These never-ending worries pulling on my sleeves

Tag, she was it. Bridget slowed her pace to a stop at the touch, then turned and took a few of her own playful nips at the other woman’s ruff. Normally I don’t concede but I don’t think I can call this losing, do you?

It was quick, but Bridget had never been the type to take things slow. Her heart tended to run away with her, sure, but this? This was fun, pure and exhilarating, and it had been far too long since anything had made her heart beat faster without threatening to break it.

For the first time, too, Bridget got a good look at the other wolf in the dusky light. She was small and slim, with a lovely rich brown coat, but it was the eyes that sold it. Not even the color - the look that matched her tone, the kind of girl who would challenge a stranger to a race purely for the chance to catch her attention.