On some level, she was right to fear him. He was capable of great violence, and much larger than most wolves he had encountered save some true-blooded northern boys that claimed dog heritage. What she saw in him he did not understand, but it only affirmed his suspicions of her abuse or something along those lines. For a long time the darkened wolf stared at her, this odd little coyote thing she was, and eagerly lifted his ears for her voice. When it came, it was soft and frightened. He was disappointed but not surprised.
Green eyes regarded her with something akin to pity, though he did not feel empathy for her. He could not, as was his nature. Silently, he left her. One day she would find some courage within her, but he had no time and no patience for the whims and fear of a girl. Other duties called him.
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