Zalen cocked his head as he listened to Krystalle speak. He wondered where it was the woman would rather be and why she was stupid for staying here. The complexity of people’s lives sometimes astounded him. He himself lived so simply that the hectic lives of others were beyond him. He supposed being a loner with no family ties would cause life to be simple and this made him realize how much he enjoyed his current lifestyle.
Krystalle mentioned two more packs that Zalen had never heard of; Cercator d’Arte and Dahlia dee Mai. This place was just too much for him. How was it possible that six packs (or possibly more he realized) could live so relatively close to each other with seemingly no violence? Everyone he had met had given him no indication of any kind of inter-pack conflicts and, beside Inferni, all the wolf and dog packs seemed peaceful. It was like a utopia here.
Zalen shifted from his haunches and laid down on his side in the warm, soft grass. In his peripheral vision he could see Paz bound around. All of a sudden he was overcome with such emotion that his breath was torn from his lungs and a painful knot formed in his throat. Why had his mother not taken him here when he was a puppy? They could have lived without a care in the world here. She would still be alive now. Tears welled up in his eyes and his body heaved in a sudden sob. He suddenly was falling apart at the seams on this beautiful day in front of this stranger and her children. He was reduced back to that frightened adolescent wolf on a cold winter’s night when his mother had been stolen from him.
Mom… he choked out as the tears streaked down his muzzle onto the grass beneath him. Being here with this happy family had opened a wound in him that he thought had been closed by months of isolation and travel. But here he was, curled up and crying at the feet of Krystalle who had only come here with her pups expecting nothing more than a nice outing. Zalen felt like a coward and his heart ached.
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