Duck Lake [m] watch the fall

The lake drew him—not for any particular reason, though when the wind shifted just slightly… there was something more that certainly beckoned him.

Thus far, the man had managed to maintain his firm reasoning that to be a father would be a death sentence to those born of his blood—trial and error had already proved this hypothesis, and it hadn’t been questioned much from him.

But did that mean when his pale champagne eyes cast upon the fluid motion of a she-wolf lavishing in her element—a myriad of downy duck feathers drifting around her with the motion.

Amusement pressed upon him, but he spoke nothing—languid in his own motions as she drew up—a few of the remaining feathers stubbornly clinging to a frame he unabashedly allowed his eyes to rove.