my angel wings are bruised & restrained
#6
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never worry about slow, because i am so much worse! 281 words

Oh, right, not Clouded Tears, Storm. Weird, she could have sworn it had been Clouded Tears, but it had been a long time back and such memories of her youth were fuzzy, flexible things. Anyway, he should know, and he said Storm, so that settled the matter. Maybe it was just that her image of Clouded Tears consisted of primarily white wolves, but maybe not. Whatever, it didn't matter. Her faint glimmer of a memory included no recollection of a river; she had seen too many different places, walked too many different river banks to have that old faint imprint of the Yawrah associated with their encounter any longer.

The name Pilot, though, did bring up a vague, fuzzy picture of a wolf. White, too? Maybe. And her dad, of course. At that age she didn't ever go anywhere without him, and often just preferred to hide behind him when they did go places. The reason she even remembered anything about meeting Kansas as a puppy probably had to do with the fact that it was such a rare occurrence for her to be so bold. She didn't ever really do the "playing with other children" thing as a kid, but she had done brief stints of puppy-sitting as a yearling in her old pack. But that was a different sort of situation.

She grinned at him, "Yeah.. I remember now. I recently left my dad, is Pilot around these parts at all?" Not that it mattered all that much, Sofi hadn't been too close to the older male. But the idea of people around here knowing her, even if only so vaguely, was oddly comforting. These were the companions of her childhood.
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