Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
Their combined natures would normally reject such open advances. Crevan’s mother, a wolf shifter herself, used to tell the taupe-colored hound that he should give potential pack members a wide berth and a narrow eye. Could they run in the hunt and not tire? Could they listen and work together with him? Did they know the basic rules of their kind? We do not hunt other shifters … He thinks; one rule of the many Circinae had taught him.
Watching Sabrina now though, it dawns on him that his den mother hadn’t always been right about everything. He had as much reason to be open and mildly trusting as he did to be hostile and selfish. The only thing that mattered was which he chose to be. Thank you! the she-pup grins up at him for a second time, blood staining her long snout, and Crevan decides he’d prefer to be the former.
Besides, the more she talks the more he can see they’re cut from a similar cloth. Sylvan-born, daughter of a ‘wolf’ he was somewhat familiar with … “Sinner you say? Your daddy and I used to work together.” Crevan chuckles, only slightly sinister about the mention. Long before Sabrina was a thought he and the hellhound tolerated Modicum together. Other than that, the two shifters couldn’t have been more opposite.
He doesn’t care what story she tells and it’s obvious on his face that he doesn’t care. The big male thumps his heavy body down near the deer haunches and, slapping one paw over a bony flank, takes to gnawing at the skin there. Sabrina’s parlor trick of changing colors surprises him enough to widen his eyes, but not much else. With a mouthful of gristle, he snorts “Huh. All this time you could’ve been camouflaging yourself. I bet that would make for a few more successful hunts.”
Crevan was practical, if nothing else.
@[Sabrina]