Phoenix Maplewood graphite

She should stop blathering and let Wealda return to her search or—considering she’d sounded rather done with it—home to the rise. Yet Druid found she wasn’t ready to part with this wolf who evoked such peculiar feelings within her. Her lips parted, though she said nothing, fighting an inner battle with herself.

Wealda’s voice cut into it. Had she just spoken in third person? Druid didn’t have much time to ponder this. Her ears pricked as she listened to every word shared, increasingly realizing that they were a revelation. Maybe Wealda hadn’t even planned to share them. Druid felt strangely honored.

She immediately wanted to tell Wealda that motherhood wasn’t the only viable path in life, that one need not obey the biological imperative. Take it from me, Druid would say, I speak from experience. But she held her tongue. What if the red woman wanted them? Many she-wolves did. Druid was an exception to the rule, she recognized this.

I thought Wealda was your name, Druid said, taking a tentative step closer, but it’s a title. It wasn’t a question. It must be synonymous with an Alpha female, a queen, et cetera. You say you’re not enough, that you failed at your duty. Do you want to be a mother? she questioned, eyes and voice both soft.