[I’m not like them but I can pretend.]
[Kurt Cobain]

A real laugh! He felt so fortunate in such a glorified sound that he wriggled in a youthful glee, playfully reeling at her bump against his chest (sure, you are strong!) and falling back just close enough to feel the chill of her nose and the tickle of her whiskers kiss his cheek. Miya’s voice was one of her wonderful unique features, at once serious even when it was playful, monotonous even though she laughed. He liked it because you could hear it when she smiled. The words felt lighter somehow, even when they weren’t teasing, but friendly. Of course, then, Noche heard the nearly imperceptible change in tone, the seriousness descending on them for a timeless moment. He wagged his tail comfortingly, pushing his nose into whatever fur happened to be near him, her collar, her muzzle, her shoulder. Once there, he murmured in his own form of solemnity, “As you wish, my queen.”

He didn’t know quite what it was to be awkward with another wolf, but with Miya he didn’t have to worry. They flowed together on the same wavelength from one emotion to the next; he felt in tune with her somehow, around her he felt...complete. Which was odd, considering he’d never felt empty. Another genuine laugh broke the surface, at her acknowledgement of his prowess ( “You almost scared me out of my pelt, you know.”) and when she fell to her paws to meet him he crept forward until their noses almost touched. Trying to trace her gaze with his own was useless, so shady was hers, but he felt he should’ve been able to see its path anyway, her eyes so bright as to be luminous. And what was that?

A wink, disrupting the beam shot from one of her eyes. He shivered with his laughter and responded with another eyebrow wiggle. Was that a giggle she was holding back? With a coltish leap he crossed the space between them and bowled her over, cradling her body all the while between his muscular legs provided that she hadn’t moved. “Let it out Miya.” He teased, prodding at her gently but at her tender neck trying to get her to relax a bit. Provided that he had met his target, Noche pulled back, sitting on his haunches as he waited for her to respond to his earlier questions. She sounded so learned as she threw in a casual “You know-the usual” that he almost felt bad cracking another grin. Did he dare taunt her, alright professor?, can you give me some tips? The male settled on a wink; a faint chuckle and a murmur echoing her: “The usual.” He would’ve toyed with her, but he sensed a true weariness in her words that she did not elaborate on. She was playful, but she’d also matured. He respected that about her.

A small breath escaped her chest, and he somehow felt it in his own. For him it was a release; of tension, of fear, loneliness, regret. It felt good to be here with Miya. Even when she asked him questions of the type he usually refused to answer, he felt safe enough in her presence to take the moment seriously, even in the midst of their play. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” Noche offered, greeting her interest with honesty. “It’s nowhere now. I grew up far from the boundaries of Blossom Forest, but it burned down in a fire. My pack...we were bred to be fighters. Can you tell?” With a grimace he rolled his pelt to showcase the scars. “My father was Beta. Naturally, I was to fight like an Alpha. I did. But I hated it. My mother would just watch. My father had control over both of us.”

The look he gave her then was one he didn’t use so often either; anxiety. His eyes were stretched wider than usual, but he blinked as he continued, saying “You’re turn.” trying to cover up the tremor that may have been audible in his voice.