Whitebark Stream Rose garden filled with thorns

maybe i don't want to change.

stigmata looked amused but said nothing. he wanted to rejoin; tell her that all things changed, given enough time, and that someday she would simply be different than what she used to be, perhaps unable to tell when exactly the change had occurred. she could become softer. she could grow even more thorns. but in his experience, most wolves evolved emotionally over the course of their life, willingly or not. he imagined that even mountains could not keep their stony facades for all eternity - but more than this he knew takiyok would resist any personal change for as long as she possibly could.

her defining feature, if not her own undoing.

the warhound bore this inflexibility as well. he was adaptable, surely, but he would not compromise to anything that was not instinctual or respectful - something that would become glaringly obvious in the tumultuous weeks to come - and he did not expect her to.

in fact, he had thought her too closed off to take his offer with any seriousness, so when she accepted at length the wolf became visibly involved - as if he'd just woken up. his tail thumped on the ground, and a cheeky sort of smile broke his long, regal muzzle. she really must not have any decent prospects back home; something he felt inexhaustibly grateful for. the fact she didn't need him to be involved more was just a plus. "you honor me, takiyok. we will have an outstanding brood!" he announced with a great deal of pride. "and you will make for an exceptional mother."