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I am still young, I know, but I feel so much more vibrant in the midst of these wolves. I feel a part of nature, a part of life, and it draws me ever closer to that other self that seems to grow ever more prevalent to my mind. It is the curse of my grandmother, the first female of our line that was whelped without the consent or consideration of the pack or alphas. A rover, that is the one who sired my own grandmother.
A rover. A knave. And my mother said I would find troubles for her indiscretion.
What troubles, I wonder as I lay against the white female who lounges so simply and calm between two strangers so that even I cannot feel timid about the bonding. Three wolves, entirely separate and uniquely one. I knew I would never forget these faces, not so long as I was within my own mind.
I ask him, then, if he did not join us because we did not dance well, or perhaps he was distraught over my song breaking the wind’s own. I cannot know for certain until his voice coils down around myself and the other female, relishing the warmth of all our combined panted breaths. Then he tells me differently and I am awash in relief and soothing thoughts as he joins us as well. He encircles myself and scoops also around Natu so that I am almost sandwiched between them both and able to bask in the heat that arises.
“As do you,” the white woman says, and I am inclined to agree, especially with a cheered expression and a nod of the head. She rests in the fur of the male and I find I cannot be jealous despite myself. “I am Natu.”
Ah, at last, a name to the warmth and the companionship. “I am Paisley.” I answer now, glad to open the name of my person to the love of us three as a whole. I look to the male, then, his white face fetching in the broken life beneath the canopy. “And who are you both? What can I know about my two deepest and lightest of soulmates today?”.
the little lass of nowhere
female | 4 years | 23 inches | 63 pounds | no mate | no imprint
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