Firefly Glen Take you like a drug;

More scars were revealed amongst the dark fur along his throat. She regarded them quietly, imagined the snapping and dragging of teeth. Her left ear was focused on his words. 

An inevitable duel. She was unsure if it was the tradition of a pack or a familial feud. Kin was always sacred but there was Arnarkla, alone. Cole alone.

The more he spoke, she realized it was less tradition and more a clash of blood because of a derailed, impressionable mind. A soft frown appeared by the end of Cole's story but not one of pity. 

Family, still.

She made a nod but her expression had gone blank like her soul had gone somewhere else. The mountain wolf was torn between letting it wander and reeling it back in. The latter won. She wasn't ready to retrace the steps of memory. 

Moonlit eyes returned to him from her reverie. 

Family, still, she echoed. 

Her tongue darted out to wet her nose. 

The pack—what did you say it was called?

She thought he might not wish to linger too long in history but that could have been her own projection.