Wapun Meadow tiptoe

irene watched ameline with measured interest, her emerald gaze steady and unflinching. she caught the glint of teeth and the subtle shift in the other wolf’s demeanor—proud yet curious, the edge of ambition still sharp in her words. irene’s lips curved faintly, almost imperceptibly, into a smile.  

names are powerful things, she replied evenly, her tone soft but laced with quiet intent. some say giving it too freely is like handing over a piece of yourself.  

a pause lingered between them, the air thick with the weight of unsaid things. then, as though deciding to humor the moment, irene tilted her head slightly. irene, she offered, her voice deliberate. and you, should I know your name if i’m ever to tread lightly again?

her expression remained neutral, though there was a flicker of playful challenge in her gaze, a subtle test of the wolf before her.