Her brilliantly hued orbs narrowed as she took in the male’s form. He was from one of the wolf packs, though his form spoke of mixed blood. A hybrid in other words. Little did she know that she was standing face to face with her nephew. He seemed to hold more age than her, but not much. She instinctively despised him for his choice. She wanted to loathe him for his muddled appearance; the appearance that allowed him to slip into a wolf pack without heaps of difficulties, but that would be silly. Halo had never wanted to live her life as a wolf except for a short moment when she had cried her salty tears in her white half-sister’s arms. If she had only known exactly how widely spread her family was. She was a coyote at heart still – the brainwashing had done its job well. Samael was a bastard, but he had let her live unlike the innocent wolf. Her family was very powerful with insanity dancing wildly within more than one individual.
He spoke and her lips curled in disbelief as she eyed the one hand that until now had lingered quite close to his pocked. She observed it, took in the shape and kept her secure grip on her beloved blade. ”What’s in your pocket, wolf?” she wondered, her voice ringing unpleasantly as she looked the male over.
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