Northstar Vale Sweet

He looks like he could be your son, Talisman thought to himself, which was of course an absurd notion. He had never coupled with anyone, much less a she-wolf. He didn’t even think he was old enough for such things, though the mere sight of the child suddenly evoked many powerful feelings inside the young man.

First, it stirred a yearning deep inside him. He wanted one of his very own. Better yet, Talis wanted many. It wasn’t just because the wee thing was so endearing—which he was, especially playing in the leaves and babbling to himself—or that he suddenly relished the thought of becoming a family man.

His father had always told him he had superior genes. And as he gazed down at the little boy who could’ve sprung from his own loins, Talisman felt a fiercely instinctive urge to spread those genes. He could people the wilderness with coyotes that looked as striking as he himself did.

And if the youngster below was anything to go by, Talis’s children would look like cherubs, absolutely angelic in their beauty. The coyote’s pale eyes veritably glowed as he continued gazing down at him, enraptured by what he was seeing in the present and how it irrevocably shifted his visions for the future.