Signs

He followed the man with bold, clean strides, his head raised with the knowledge that he had every right to be there. He listened to the man carefully and considered briefly what it would mean to belong to a pack completely rather than be a fair-weather on looker like so many in Abaven were. To have that security, that stability in his life, that was what he wanted more than anything else in the world, even more than the return of his mate.

A moment of silence passed between them before he spoke again, and with great ardour. “I have never been a Wreckage of Abaven.” He announced. “I have never belonged to my mother’s family or to the pack I was born into. If you are a Praetor, then I am a Praetor as well, and I will swear my life to Ruina from this day until my last. You have my word.” His voice never quavered, his eyes never left his father’s blazing red, uncertainty never touched him, or trepidation that he may never see his mother again. She had been fully loyal to him, but now he would show that loyalty to the father he had never had. To the father he deserved. “I am Tyranis Praetor.” He said boldly, “My home and my heart are with Ruina.”

Speaking  Thinking You