He was relieved to see that his former blunder had not been realized, or she’d simply said nothing of it, and he was able to continue to grasp what shred of pride he had left. She was indeed a formidable debating partner, and had not dropped out yet, but neither had he, although he was beginning to feel that his argument was becoming more and more pathetic. Each visit with the long furred dog seemed to open more wounds. Although, he didn’t doubt it was unintentional, to be reminded of his past pained him greatly still, as there were only months to separate him from his memories. Not only that, but he’d plenty of time to himself. Perhaps, if he was in the presence of others more often his memories would fade until one day when he would forget them all together. No…Not forget them. He could never forget them. They were what made him what he was, who he was. He would never lose sight of how far he had come. But this land, this new world was strange to him. These canines walked on two feet and presumed to fill in the void that the humans had left behind. It was odd to him that wolves as well as dogs had adjusted to such a lifestyle. Had they truly forgotten their ancestors to such a degree that they would shun the lives that they had lived for so long? There was nothing wrong with a life lived on four paws in the wolf’s mind.
When she spoke the truth of her words hit him sharply. He recalled telling her of his past, but perhaps he’d left something out. “Oh.” He muttered, when the realization struck him. He had made no mention of his brother or his death out of wariness. “I guess I left that out.” He didn’t linger on that tangent and recovered soon after. He was making careless mistakes, where Caspa had not faltered. He was beginning to feel that he had judged her unjustly. But he was a stubborn wolf and would never admit a fault...Almost never. He turned his head to look at her straight on, pelt bristling momentarily with her tone, but when her head dipped and word of her apology reached him he relaxed as best he could. “He was my only friend,” he whispered, his voice nearly inaudible and hard to discern. He hadn‘t been this way always, not when he was young. It was his brother’s death that had made him grow into such an introvert and quick-tempered creature. As there had been no one to fill the void that he had left in his heart.
His own muzzle fell and his eyes glistened, but he did not let her see. The knife had stirred feelings within him that he had held so long inside. His anger dulled. He found he didn’t want to argue anymore. “You’re right.” He admitted in defeat, having heard something similar from the lips of a large Luperci male. He turned his back on her again and laid down in the grass, tucking his face into his bushy white tail, shielding his eyes from sight.
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