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Fusce egestas diam non lacus. Praesent velit nibh, pellentesque facilisis, hendrerit id, imperdiet id, mi. Curabitur pretium placerat felis. In sollicitudin neque.
The boy dropped into a submissive pose and she studied him. His words were nonsensical to her, and she frowned. The only foreign language she understood well was Irish, and that was only because her adopted father, who was now deceased, spoke it. So did her sister, Nella, though Deuce had no clue that Nella was also gone now, killed by Conri.
The boy didn't look to be any older than her own pups, and that alone made the woman's eyes soften. "You must be hungry, boy. Can you speak my language? My name is Deuce Rhiannon, and I'd like to feed you..." Her protective stance eased into a more natural role, the mother. She was not the warrior of the pack, Hel was. Deuce was just the healer, although she was a good healer. A great healer. A healer possibly on par with Fatin's abilities.
Deuce held out a hand to the cowering boy. "Take my hand, child. Come eat. I won't harm you, I promise." Her tone was gentle and truthful. She meant wht she said. She wouldn't hurt him, he was just a child.
