Bitterroot Valley room to make a big mistake

He spoke her name differently, now. Angel stood taller, watching as he investigated her gift. She was proud of how she'd taken down the elk — young and brash and somewhat injured as it had been — even if she hoped she wouldn't soon be asked to demonstrate her skill alone.

But she was an asset to this pack, she thought. She could be something to him.

She lifted her chin and brought it down in a decisive nod at his question. She'd hunted it, all on her own, and she'd carried its mighty rack here on her own shoulders as well. She waited for him to say more, forcing herself not to simper under the praise, or to huff and blush and demure when he said it would go in a place of honor. This was what she wanted, she told herself — she had to act like it, too.

"I'm glad," she said simply, feeling that discussion of the gift had ended. She wasn't quite sure where that left them, except that the ball was firmly in his court, now. Still, her eyes traced the strong lines of his face, and of his body, and she could not help but feel a tiny twinge of disappointment.

This courting business made her feel awfully impatient.

"I brought something else," she said to him. "A wolf from my father's line. I wish her to stay with us here, in Great Sky."