No matter what he tried to get Harlowe to do and learn, the boy fought him. He clung to the notion that things would be different or better or his mother would return. Larkspur doubted this sorely. He doubted that the boy would ever be what he wanted him to be. The thought made his eyes narrow, pupils widening to the point that all that remained colored in his eyes was a ring of orange. His muzzle twitched with a snarl.
Then there was a noise and Harlowe jerked towards it. The older wolf turned his face towards the window and listened. Something was out there. Not a deer. Not any prey animal. Wolf. Stranger. The D’Angelo male let out a low, deep growl. “Go fin’ whoever it is and deal with ‘em.” It was a command, one terrible and dangerous.
.larkspur-b02 p {padding:5px 0px; text-indent:25px; margin:0px;}
.larkspur-b02 b {color:#C96812; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:11px; font-weight:normal;}
.larkspur-b02-text {margin:0px 8px 24px 176px; padding:2px; width:262px; }
.larkspur-b02 {width:450px; margin:0 auto; background-color:#000000; background-image:url(http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... arksie.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#4E4844; word-spacing:.2px; line-height:12px; letter-spacing:.1px; text-align:justify; border:1px solid #000000; min-height:293px;}
</style>
[/html]