too little, too late

Skoll Haskel · 02-25-2012, 04:14 PM

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If the puppy stopped and thought about it, he might feel guilty about wanting so much when he had been given everything he needed. He only needed to think of the redhead hybrid who’d intruded in his home, a man who was envious of all the stuff the sun prince had been born with. Others didn’t have the same safety and security as he did, the child of an alpha with an entire pack territory at his paws, a territory full of wolves and dogs capable of providing for and defending him.

He had so much, but he wanted more, more, more. The mantra passed through his head, and his childish greed was only fueled by the tingles of growth in his lengthening legs and almost-muscular frame. Skoll was not a bad kid, by any stretch of the imagination, and he was thankful for what he had—but freedom was something he craved now, freedom to explore where he wanted and do what he wanted with his yet-to-be-formed hands.

He stared despondently at the splintered paintbrush, fragments of wood still resting on his tongue, when a voice dragged him out of his pondering. He glanced up at the reddish wolf, startled, and then snorted at the newcomer’s words. A bit older, and he might have seen that they applied to the cub as well.

“I’m sorry, I guess,” he said, half addressing the stranger and half addressing the paintbrush. He spat out the last of the wood splinters then allowed himself to sniff the stranger. He didn’t smell the same as the territory, which meant he belonged to a different pack altogether than what he was used to. And, if he sniffed a little more—

“You smell like Alder!” Skoll barked, his green eyes flying wide open. He even had the same dark blue shade of eye! “Alder said he got family in Crimson Dreams. Are you his family?” His tail began to wag as he drew the clever conclusion.

Word Count → 330

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