These are difficult thoughts. Difficult words. Difficult feelings. It is all difficult and yet it is almost relaxing. It is not the same exhaustion that I fall beneath each night. It is straining, perhaps, and yet my blood feels warmer in my veins - when she cringes, I almost lurch forward as if to wrap my very self around her. It is an odd desire to keep a stranger safe. I do not deny it, however, though I keep my paws firmly planted on the soil below me. Instead, I speak, quietly... but I can hope the words work to settle her. It is not her fault, after all, that there is a stab of remembrance at the thought of Angels. It is nobody's fault - my own, perhaps. Mother had not exactly done the best of things, after all.
"No need to be... sorry. Cannot help how we are born."
I shrug, looking away for a moment in... embarrassment, I think it is. I feel like a child. I feel like a child that cannot control his words or actions. I do not know why and yet, I am awash with too many feelings that conflict and fight across the inside of my skull. I want to be close and yet far; I want to speak but I am afraid of saying the wrong thing; I just stand and sway ever so gently across my paws, trying to find some stability. No matter what, however, I cannot help but turn to face her once more, always watching the tiny movements across her face. I listen closely despite it all, nodding slowly as she speaks of Andras and her true father. My words come easily for once, and I move just a step closer as I look into her eyes.
"Some wolves... just not good for others. I left mine - they were not good for me. Maybe yours... not good for you."
I feel as if that is true. My mother and father were good, perhaps, to my other siblings. They had never hurt me but... they did not put me at ease. Pressure, expectation, history - they had wanted me to take it all on. Father wanted me to be like him. Mother wanted me to be like her. Secrets, lies, who knew. I didn't want any of that. Perhaps her parents left because they knew they were not good. I cannot judge them, maybe, but I can... think. My ears still flatten in hesitation, uncertain as to whether my words are right. They came easily, perhaps, but that does not make them perfect. I know my tongue betrays me. It is just... it just is. It is disconnected, disjointed. There is an abyss between where my thoughts leave and my words begin and at times, I cannot cross it. Still, I want to try. For her, I think.
"Want me to... get food?"
My heart pounds. What if she says no? What if she leaves? If she does not wish to speak with me? My words... they might not have been right. Still, I try to look... kind. Smile, faint but there, in an effort to be warm. I will get her the best parts, yes, if I can. I do not wish to face the others but for her, I think I will. There is still plenty left - if I get it, maybe she will stay a while longer. I want to know her. I cannot help but step forward in anticipation, hoping to hear her say yes. These feelings might be strange... uncomfortable... but they are the first one's I have had in so long.
wraith
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