Redtail Rise Altay

Masque reached for him again, this time brushing his shoulder with a coltish push. The gesture was far less intimate, and a little of the moment died in Riley then as he realized that maybe Masque had meant nothing by it.

All the same, he would not forget the sensation so soon. He looked down to the fox in the snow. Its fur was a bright flame against a white backdrop. Beautiful, even -- if one appreciated such things.

His throat knotted as the conversation turned to something else. Riley had never considered Redd, at least not in that way. He was a wolf of linear thinking and linear desires -- in some ways, it made him a plain man. While the world was moved by men of ambition, it was the plain men and their quiet lives that built the world. Their strong hands, somber smiles, and unwavering dedication found packs and dynasties, and at time, carried on their backs the thrones of kings.

I don't know. I don't -- So many things he wanted to say that died on his tongue. I don't know her like that. After all, it wasn't Redd that brought him into the fold of Redtail Rise when he had been a limping loner with nothing to offer.

It had been Masque.