Silver Moraine XVII

Sunday Morning loosed a complacent yawn in answer that was intended to disarm. There was no growling complaint in being told to remain low; instinct demanded she listen. And as her man nosed her belly, Sunday yielded in a display of her implicit trust. Sunday Morning kept her eyes averted. Her tail still thumped against the earth, though it stilled then as she understood that now was the time for her to be evaluated.

Her eyes turned to the tawny male as he spoke two words she knew well that translated in any tongue, tail stirring once more. She knew these things, and enjoyed them... though namely the former. All physical labors, Sunday preferred. As a breeze came, Sunday again looked away. Another sweep of her tongue across her jowls to ease the tension of her own mind.

The she-wolf let herself be at the mercy of Mountain Boulder and his superior. Now, she answered to him as well, whatever his judgment may be.