Moonspear lawmother

Simbelmyne fretted in silence, hushed by his confession. A broken bone could mean death for a wolf- and if that was the consequence for his actions, then what exactly was it that he had done? Now he led her up the mountainside, a place where he was capable and familiar, having lived here once before. 

Whatever his trespass had been, he suffered for it no longer, not that she could see. But had the lesson been learned, or was he simply leading her somewhere that prying eyes could not find them? He had been flirting with her earlier, she was certain of it; was there too much of a rosy hue to the lenses through which she looked at him? 

She tried to dash her fearful thoughts aside; he would have lied and told her it had been from a hunting accident if he had done something truly sinister to earn that punishment. She tried, but she found it impossible. 

She slowed, and stopped, gazing over her shoulder. She panted still, but with her ears dropped back and her expression slightly whale-eyed, now. She needed a moment to catch her breath, and collect her thoughts.