He had bathed once back over the mountains, but the scent of the ash of the northern lands still clung to him. They were fascinating lands, and he'd enjoyed wandering them. The events of the past week or so taunted him, teased him. The wounds from Amy had healed over. The thoughts of Firefly were distant as he put space between himself and her. Even the image of Gemma had faded into a pleasant dream. So here the male was, the original wounds Ayasha had cared for healed or scarred. He had thoughts in his mind, but mostly he wanted to see if she still wanted him.
He paused, well outside of the packland she called home. Perhaps he would be allowed to call it home as well, if she still wanted him. He hoped so; he really did love her. She was clean and pure, everything that was beautiful in his life. He ran his fingers through his messy rumpled mane, using his fingers to comb it into some semblance of neatness. He took a moment to straighten his tank top and jeans before letting a soft howl for his girlfriend to come to the border for him.
Flashes of some nightmare came to him for a moment as the last few notes of his howl drifted away.
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