The devil may cry

the poor little dove fell tail-tip over paw for crescendo's veiled lie, her interest piqued by his mention of a powerful pack. she liked powerful packs -- more than anything, she liked power.

afterall, what type of princess would she be if she did not lustily seek the highest pinnacle?

her attention riveted to him, she couldn't help but interrupt. "powerful pack?" she interjected, clearly interested -- but before she could press forwards the male suddenly bolted upright as if disturbed by a monster in the woods.

this caused every hair on starling's little nape to lift -- with a yelp she practically leaped into his lap, expecting him to do the gentlemanly thing and protect her from whatever devil plagued the woodlands beyond.