Phoenix Maplewood graphite

For the first few days after relocating the sextet to Sequoia’s Spot, Druid didn’t stray too far. She didn’t even know why. Was she concerned for the pups? Did she not trust the other members of the pack? She certainly wanted her freedom back. Maybe she was afraid that once she took advantage, she would overindulge and end up neglecting her own children.

Whatever its root cause, Druid decided to get over it today. She wrapped a patrol near the north side of the bypass, then roamed toward the nearby woods. She decided she would try to rustle up some small game. She would probably not kill it outright, only wounding her prey so she could take it back to the rendezvous site and let the Butternuts practice their own hunting skills.

She saw a flash of red through the trees and paused, then proceed with caution. Druid realized it was a she-wolf seconds before the figure halted, prompting her to freeze again too. She watched as the stranger tossed her head skyward, her neck arcing swanlike as she sang a searching song.

Druid drew in a breath as her eyes traveled from the woman’s face, down the curve of her neck to her slim shoulders. She was muscular but lithe, her pelt a striking blend of bold red against a more muted, earthen palette. Druid swore she caught a glimpse of golden eyes.

She barely believed in love of the romantic variety, much less love at first sight. But something about the woman—maybe even her song of longing—hooked into something deep inside Druid. She felt compelled to push forward through the brush, as if she contained a magnet and this stranger its mate. It was so strange, yet she did not put up any resistance as she stepped into view.