Word Count :: 206 Last post?
The silver-shaded coyote could understand where Halo was coming from. Her first children had been very much wanted at first, and in the last three days of her pregnancy, the scarred woman contemplated shifting and ending it all. She did not know whether it would kill the children, though she had been told it would kill her. They were not wanted when they were born, either -- she looked at Maeryn and saw herself, she looked at Kerberos and saw only Zulifer. It hurt to look at them, and in the end the coyote found she could not. It had ended Maeryn's life and turned Kerberos against her, and now he was an old man somewhere or dead.
“Maybe not, but they are young. Can't all be like Itachi,” the Centurion said, smiling as she referenced her descendant, still perched there attentively. The coyote reached over to touch the Lykoi-branded canine's arm, squeezing it gently. “I know, and you do a damn good job of it,” she responded, speaking the truth. She would have said such a thing as a grandmother or not -- should every canine that joined their ranks possess half the dedication and loyalty of Halo, they would be in very good condition.
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