01-18-2012, 09:58 PM
He watched as Leon took his measure, a hard look on his face. If they were cats they would be circling and growling; but as it was, the males were just sizing each other up. He felt mollified as she corrected herself, squeezing her hand gently as she kissed his cheek. As she vaguely explained why they hadn't stayed in Aniwaya, his eyes glittered with a hard light. "I'll explain once we have a leader present."
While he felt no guilt over what he had done, he also remembered it very differently from how Ayasha had been told. He still felt he had committed no crime, and yet the world insisted that he was a danger, that he was too troubled to belong anywhere. Maybe they were right. He felt trepidation over joining, but not because of his supposed crimes. He was afraid that he wouldn't fit in, that the minor skills he possessed wouldn't be useful to the pack.
He squeezed his mate's hand again, his face not betraying his inner turmoil. His gaze had left the other male's face. It wouldn't do to be accused of challenging anyone before even being accepted into the pack. The amber gaze had fallen on the horses. He wondered if there was a way he could get his own horse. His time in D'Arte's stables had made him develop a fondness for the equine species. His favorite had been the mare he often rode, a communal mare. If he'd been in his right mind after destroying the shadow wolf, he would have taken the mare with him.
Perhaps here, he could figure out a way to barter or earn his own horse. His free hand reached out to pet the mare that had been messing with Ayasha's mane. The slight smile on his lips betrayed his fondness for horses, something that would have come as a surprise from the wolves of D'Arte. When Ayasha leaned against him, he let go of her hand, but put his arm around her. His golden gaze returned to her uncle as she asked him to call a leader. "Please," was all he had to add to her plea.
((WC:362))
While he felt no guilt over what he had done, he also remembered it very differently from how Ayasha had been told. He still felt he had committed no crime, and yet the world insisted that he was a danger, that he was too troubled to belong anywhere. Maybe they were right. He felt trepidation over joining, but not because of his supposed crimes. He was afraid that he wouldn't fit in, that the minor skills he possessed wouldn't be useful to the pack.
He squeezed his mate's hand again, his face not betraying his inner turmoil. His gaze had left the other male's face. It wouldn't do to be accused of challenging anyone before even being accepted into the pack. The amber gaze had fallen on the horses. He wondered if there was a way he could get his own horse. His time in D'Arte's stables had made him develop a fondness for the equine species. His favorite had been the mare he often rode, a communal mare. If he'd been in his right mind after destroying the shadow wolf, he would have taken the mare with him.
Perhaps here, he could figure out a way to barter or earn his own horse. His free hand reached out to pet the mare that had been messing with Ayasha's mane. The slight smile on his lips betrayed his fondness for horses, something that would have come as a surprise from the wolves of D'Arte. When Ayasha leaned against him, he let go of her hand, but put his arm around her. His golden gaze returned to her uncle as she asked him to call a leader. "Please," was all he had to add to her plea.
((WC:362))