King Elk Forest the sweet relief of knowing nothing comes for free

mona was swept away quickly by such mention of a love triangle. brienne, mato, delight; beautiful names for lovely wolves broken on the shores of romance. quite honestly, the young mayfair would earnestly have become a writer of bodice-rippers and melancholy love at sea, had she not had her hopelessly loving heart encased in a wolf's body. 
"what happened to brienne?" mona pressed, her red ears cupping forward in an interest that was writ clearly into the slim lines of her body. to delight's question, she gave a belated nod. she did indeed understand, and now thirsted for more details. and, perhaps if delight was so inclined, he would grant them to her.