The golden boy bade his new horse farewell before jogging after the coywolf as she walked toward the hotel. It wasn’t hard to catch up with her limping pace, but he still let her lead the way. He hadn’t really noticed how badly she’d been hurt before; she’d done a good job of hiding her injuries from the rest of the Court. Still, she was immortal in his mind.
He tiptoed after her into the lobby, ears pricked for the sound of footsteps while they disappeared into one of the halls. He grinned when she found the door, opening it up to reveal the rolls of fabric within. He’d seen the tailor Dauphin wearing his outfits before, as well as his mother with her nice, simple dresses, but he’d never really thought about adorning himself in clothes. After all, wouldn’t it just make it harder to shift? He liked the freedom of four legs sometimes, even if he loved testing out his new forms.
“Beautiful,” Skoll giggled, resisting the urge to pull at the cloth and unwrap her in a comical spin; he didn’t want to hurt her. He reached for some green fabric, flipping it over his shoulders like a knight’s cloak. He turned in an attempt to admire himself, which was hard without mirrors. “Whadduya think?”
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