Whitefish River Are we the last living souls?

She's pleasantly surprised to find the other is just as content with the silence between them; perhaps he isn't as thickheaded as most males. It isn't much, really — but it's a start. And she really should learn to like him, at least, if he is to be her alpha. She puts the thought aside, gaze tracing the water's movements. She's happy to sit in silence for the remainder of their time together, scarcely acknowledging the alpha but offering him a companionable silence for as long as he desires.