Maybe she would be able to find her space elsewhere, and maybe it would really be her own. These wolves were strangers and they had no expectations of her -- she was not to be a princess, she was not to be hated. There was nothing to live up to in this new place. Maybe it would be better for her there, maybe not -- all she knew was that it would be different.
The air was cold now, and the coyote woman lamented the coming of winter. The desert had been kind with regard to the temperature, and it had never dipped uncomfortably low for the sable-shaded woman. As the faint sounds of an approach caught her attention, she peered to the trees, scanning them for signs of movement. Some of the shadows shifted, and the hybrid watched as Larkspur approached, seated on his horse. He spoke her name.
She looked up toward him and smiled faintly, pulling herself to her feet. “Hello, Larkspur,” she said. Perhaps it was strange to greet the father of her children in such a manner, but she did not owe him anything more, really.
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