Sunbeam Lair In the mirror, you're brushing over

Spring was coming and with it the craziness of a lonly winter. Brought to a head with men who did crazy things and women who taunted with scents of fantasy and perfection. Etienne knew it well and it had begun to invome some of the most dangerous daydreams and night schemes.

It was an itch beneath his sandy and brown fur. A light that lit up the golden of his eyes and caused a restlessness to play harsh with his paws. But it did not invoke lustful daydreams of women and children. No. And he was ashamed. So ashamed.

How could he tell anyone that women didn't call to him as a Siren. That he could turn his back. Did the scent affect him absolutely, but it was more a turning of his stomach. A deep seated fear of the unknown. And a wrongness. He felt so wrong.

The scent had clung to Anselm it had lingered there on his fur in the pack lands and it had driven Etienne to such absolute fury. And yet he could do nothing. Nothing. Because he was not his and he probably would do what he pleased. There would be puppies. And a Etienne, he wasn't sure if he could stay in the hollow of this happened.

So with a yelp he left the pack lands. Headed towards the meadow he loved. Each paw step lessening the hard ball of frustration and confusion in hia chest.