Hushed Willows Take me back to the night we met.

An ear twitched atop her head in the direction of a masculine voice, and Wayfarer paused in her tracks. She did not turn to face him immediately. A huff of frustration was stifled, held back by gritted teeth, and she fought to soften the narrowing of her eyes before shifting to glance over a rugged, skinny shoulder.

Boone loped his way toward her, and she felt several things all at once. Annoyance pricked at her hide to look upon him, this unremarkable creature who Reverie had chosen as her life partner, while guilt and jealousy both stirred in a sickly in her gut. Wayfarer didn't know this wolf - it was harsh of her to judge him without giving him a chance.

But it was so difficult for her to trust others, and he'd given no indication that he was worthy of her respect. That plummeted as soon as he dubbed her "kid", which speared her in a way that took her back to a troubled childhood and reminded her how strangers often regarded her on the road: just some dumb kid in a world where everyone thinks they know better.

I'll walk with you, she said curtly with a lift of her chin and a pointed look, before moving to carry on her stride, as long as you never call me that again. It's Wayfarer.