Phoenix Maplewood graphite

No one had ever asked her this. Redd watched Druid with surprise, then a slow gratitude that grew. She had not expected to share such things, but the stranger’s easy presence allowed it. She felt a kinship and understanding, but also an ease that she had not felt since Wealda’s death. It should have troubled her to feel this way around a stranger and not her pack, but she knew this was the burden she bore. It was one she had knowingly accepted upon claiming her rank.

For the pack. To keep them as one. She lowered her gaze, the guilt within these next words eating through her. I was the wrong choice. I cannot change it.

She had been sure, at the time, that this wasn’t true. She hadn’t seen the shortcomings Masque had clearly felt, and in driving her sister away, she had denied the rise a true Wealda. Admitting this would invite weakness. She had to carry it alone, but it would always exist, a shadow of shame between herself and the one she’d once been closest to.

You lead. Why? Was Druid’s answer different? She had said her pack was not united, yet still she tried. She must have felt this same loyalty, this same need stirring within.