Blackfeather Woods Angel of small death

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: roan being roan

she didn't move. a good girl she'd been plastered to his side. he'd keep her now, a possession for him to carry, hold, to feel plush. roan may not be a man of many words, but actions he had.

inhaling her divine feminine scent, he bristled; no pack? he'd ask, though the traces of anyone besides him lingering on her coat had been far gone.

roan resented the ideas of pack. he'd survived long enough to not need one. would she go searching for such a thing? betray him with her newfound acceptance of his body? he could provide, keep her warm...