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sorry for the wait
Hawthorn had come to Alder and lain in fairly inexperienced hands with faith and hope for the young wolf. Masked eyes had looked to the large creature with the same emotions, and together they forged the bond that stood before Caspa. Alder trusted his friend, and though their speech was unlike the vocals passed between wolves it was fully understandable when spoken. They had learned to read each other’s bodies; a flick or the ear or the subtle change in the size of a pupil often spoke louder then a sound that bounced off their tongues.
With pure confidence Alder watched the female’s hesitation, understanding her fear as it reminded of his own under different circumstances. She hardly let her fingers graze over the softness of Hawthorn’s nose before retracting them and speaking a question. Alder looked at the horse, disappointment in his dark eye. He placed a black hand high on his neck, claws lightly scratching to remedy the lack of attention the stallion was feeling.
He’s hoping you will. He answered the first portion with a soft smile. Though the Marshal did not know how to explain the answer for the second half. He continued to give the horse praise for his patience and stillness. Some will. he spoke honestly. But Hawthorn does not look to us as a predators. He is unafraid here, just like you and I don’t fear our pack mates. Alder paused, but then added, That is how I view them. Members as equal as you and I. In the beyonds, life was different. Thoughts of his half brother in Inferni and the mistreatment he placed upon his horse came to mind. But here Alder resided to keeping the utopia in the stables alive.
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