Phantom Hollow It's been a little cold and not outside

Monarch studied him curiously as he spoke. Starting a pack seemed like such a big task to take on, and from the way he talked about it, it sounded like he hadn't had an easy time of it. Yeah, well most other wolves suck from what I've noticed. And life is shitty to you no matter who you are and it doesn't seem like anyone has much say in that, she replied, swiping at the stick so hard that it flew a few feet in front of her, breaking into pieces as it slammed against the trunk of a tree. Anger had been her constant and unwanted companion lately, and it bubbled to the surface now in her momentary loss of control. She recovered quickly, though, used to hiding how she felt from those around her, and turned back towards the stranger.

Monarch took a seat as he issued his warning. She bristled a little. I'm not a baby; I can handle whatever is out there, she said, tilting her chin up some. Of course, she was lying; she didn't know the first thing about what was out there or whether or not she was properly equipped to handle it, but she was still just as stubborn as ever. Thanks, though, she quickly offered, deflating a little. He was only trying to help, right? I'm—Simmik, by the way. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to give him her northern name; she had never used it before now. But Monarch just didn't feel right anymore. She wasn't the same. It was a huge and confusing conclusion to draw for someone so young, but since when had life given a shit about how young she was; it still stole her dad from her regardless.