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I cannot put into words the emotions that dragged through my cold carcass when I set eyes on the cinnamon painted female at the gathering. It was like everything else fell away and there she was. Suddenly Dru was just a forgotten memory, a love that was and never could be again. She was and is nothing to me, just a brick along the highway. Chickadee is the destination. My lips set into a grim line as I try to take it all in, to understand this new mindset. What's going on? I don't recall ever feeling like this. How can one wolf suddenly mean so much with just a single glance? I don't think I even looked at her for a full second before it kicked in. My tail twitches behind me, ears flickering uncertainly as I freeze up and then take a step back. Can any of the others feel it too? Do they know what I'm going through? It makes me feel vulnerable and exposed, my skin shuddering as my fur bristles in response. Suddenly I look up and she's making her way over to me, a bellerina in her element. Her ever step is well measured and delicate, like a rose unfurling its petals. I don't know what to say or do so I don't do anything. I just stand there and blink. It's all I can do just to breathe as she gets near, her very aroma causing a sensory overload. Why can I not think straight? I'm uncomfortable about the revelation, a part of me wanting to run while the other keeps it anchored to the ground like a ship docked. My bright blues slowly etch their way over to her, ears pricked as she speaks, an angelic voice rendering me breathless for a moment. Finally I gulp and manage to find words. "The name's Spike, lass. What's yours?" My voice is intimately soft, not something that usually flows from my lips at all. I'm strong spoken and rebellious, a killer in my own right and something not to be tamed so why do I suddenly feel so harmless? So docile? I can't comprehend it. Spike_male_seven seasons_34', 130lbs._bound to Chickadee_no ties_sire to Erikur, Sinclair, & Lamar_imprisoned in Iromar |