Black Morass Idealism sits prison

“Pips and Lil Sauce,” he repeated, the humour clear in his voice as he tested out the nicknames. “Sounds like the names of two heroes about to embark on a pretty kick ass adventure,” he rumbled with a laugh, his eyes sweeping over the girl, noting the cloud of her eyes. His presence was here to keep an eye on her—a self appointed role. But that didn’t mean he had to act like a boring old guy like he was, and stomp on her fun.

“I was keeping tabs on a herd,” he responded, not privy to the guilt she felt at being from the pack borders. “Want to help?”