Shadewood all the saints of notre dame

Her lips parted when Riley broke his contemplative silence to mention his childhood. Her mouth closed, jaw clenching even tighter the more he said. Masquerade wanted to refute his claim about damage, though she didn’t interrupt him. She took in every word with shining eyes.

He used a word that made her ugly laugh in her head: “kind.” The rise was many things, though that wasn’t one of them. They were fierce, loyal and even attentive in their own primal fashion. But half the wolves there couldn’t even speak to each other, much less connect on a deeper level. And even those who could sometimes didn’t…

Masque couldn’t help but think of Redd, refusing to talk to her, likely because vulnerability had no place among the Redtails, much less with its Wealda. She thought of Ashlar too, her kindred spirit who had likewise not fit the mold. She reflected on all the times she’d felt like she just didn’t quite mesh with the rise, despite her love and loyalty, and how she would never want her offspring to feel that way.

But, truthfully, the only thing that mattered was Riley saying, “So, of course I don’t want to return.”

Yes, I want to have your children, she said to him, reaching out for a nuzzle. You—and them—are my priority now.

It wouldn’t be easy, nor quick, but Masquerade would just have to let go of Redtail Rise entirely. The thought alone made her ears sweep back uncertainly for a moment, before she righted them and looked Riley in the eye.

I haven’t felt very confident lately, much less like an Alpha female, but… if we’re all in, Riley, we need to choose a territory and begin claiming it.