words: 457
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
Slay was beginning to feel more at ease with his role of makeshift father. He knew that Anka had named Cercelee as their sole guardian, but whether or not she had known her distant cousin had a mate, he felt just as responsible for the waifs as she did. Maybe he was less sensitive to the feelings of those who had been abandoned, or maybe he was just a big awkward male trying to fill shoes he never could, but at first it had been really frustrating trying to fit in, to understand the pups' broken English, to adjust his lazy schedule to spend time with the siblings. But now that time had passed, he was feeling much better about the whole situation. He and Roulette had played together on the beach, Avarice had worked her charms on him, and best of all, Catalyst had even begun teaching him some snippets of German in return for his bumbling English lessons. That certainly made him feel more welcome... like his efforts were not being wasted.
The arctic wolf was sprawled on the soft grass of the lawn in front of the church, watching the sun begin its descent below the treeline. A pair of still-wet carp lay arranged beside his white paws, a dinner treat for whichever pup returned home to the church first today. The little family had become quite adventurous in the past few weeks, wandering further and further from their adoptive home. It was a good thing for wolves to do - it would teach them a lot, meeting new people, pacing themselves, perhaps even hunting a little on their own. Still, being the possessive mother hen he was, Slay worried that they might be meeting the wrong people, or learning the wrong things. Cercelee might be the most wholesome wolf in their pack, but if the kids didn't listen to her advice, it would account for nothing.
Yawning deeply, the oddly-marked male laid his chin atop his paws, pale eyes drowsy. It had been fun to catch fish again, if only from the river. Soon he could try the ocean again... Saltwater fish were the best. Since he had run away from home in his youth, he had developed a talent at snagging the scaly snacks from waterways. They were the one reliable prey, even when deer were scarce and rodents were in hiding. He thought perhaps it was something he could teach to the de Sadira brood, if they too liked the fishy taste. "Hm... Maybe carp were a bad choice... It might be too strong a flavor for their first try..." Slay yawned again, needing his mid-afternoon nap to fix his sleep schedule. Narcolepsy really drained the juice out of a guy...
