Hushed Willows [m] Never gonna allocate all of this dark hate

Reverie had tried to wipe her face, but Wayfarer saw the way their afternoon sun glistened in the wetness of her eyes as she shifted to seek her gaze. The rogue's smile faltered then, fading to a contemplative frown to accompany the lines of concern that furrowed her brow. Regret began to seep into her bones; had the gilded leader come here for privacy, away from the pestering of pack-mates? Wayfarer blinked, anxious of that waver in her friend's voice and unsure how to answer the question she asked of her.

She did like the place that'd been chosen to settle the wolves of Hearthwood, but carried her own reservations - about others in the pack, particularly about Boone. Her russet-kissed lobes flicked back. This uncertainty about her new Alpha male was unwarranted and unfair, yet she couldn't shake the irk he roused in her. The reaction from the wolfess at the meeting when she simply saw him sprung to mind but it wasn't something Wayfarer wished to address with Reverie. It was not her business, not really, not until there might come a reason to make it so.

If I didn't, she chose to say, I wouldn't still be hangin' around. It was fondness for Reverie that kept her close, a quiet desire in her to see the Coach succeed.