Cliche
Setting fire to our insides for fun
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Apprehension coursed through Cliche as this stranger, Hellene, willingly offered her assistance. The creme she-wolf hadn't even noticed her injury. Shifty, amber eyes reluctantly peeled away from her companion and down to her paws. Sure enough there was a small sting in her feet now that her attention was focused there. Lifting one foot and then the other, Cliche inspected the damage. Minimal blood, minimal damage. She'd be fine in a day or two with a little rest.
I could hardly ask you to do that. You have such little supplies, and I'm sure your pack is in far worse condition...
Cliche trailed off with a weary, hesitant smile that came off as more of a half-hearted grimace. She couldn't bring herself to genuinely care about the pack with which she held no relation, but she was raised to understand the need for common courtesy. Curiosity struck suddenly as she remembered what Hellene had told her just moments before. A perfect way to deflect her boredom and inability to accept help.
What attacked your pack?
She asked blatantly, caramel tipped ears perking up quickly. She was interested in what had the ability to take down a whole clan. After all, the creature could still be lingering in the area. The more she knew, the safer she'd be. She had to protect herself now. If she didn't, no one else would.
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And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,
'Cause most of us are bitter over someone.
Setting fire to our insides for fun,
To distract our hearts from ever missing them.
But I'm forever missing him.
And you caused it.
/ Fae / Teen / Mate / Offspring / Pack / Rank /
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