Vesper managed to smirk as the other coyote hybrid brushed against her, leaning lightly and playfully into the touch despite her want for personal space. “You’re right,” she conceded good-naturedly. She knew that the fire clan wasn’t for everyone—not even for every coyote—but she’d developed those deep bonds since joining them in the fall. It suited her, and she knew she wouldn’t want to abandon it for another pack even if she didn’t have the friends she had. The south, as lazy and peaceful as it sounded, was a bit too soft and bland for her.
Blue eyes ran lazily over the other’s pale stomach, just for visual stimulation even though she didn’t think much else about the green-eyed she-yote. Her lips quirked in another sardonic smile as the other mentioned telling tales. “I’m not much of a storyteller, sweetheart,” she replied, “but I like to think they’re more realistic and dark accounts in the north. Yours are probably about princesses that turn into butterflies and crap like that.” It was a ridiculous claim, but her tone was teasing anyway.
“You aren’t a fan of luperci stuff?” Vesper asked, her ear swiveling forward at the other’s offhand remark. “Guess that doesn’t surprise me.” She felt more relaxed around this stranger than most, and part of it was for her obvious ease in her feral form. It was familiar, thoughtless, just like in the Canadian wilderness she’d been born and raised in.
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