the youth of the nation
“Greatness is the only way a Kelin knows.” He told her, remembering his days as a girl when he was told to dominate her mate and make him beg for her loyalty.
He thought back to the girls he had dancing on his heels and grinned. There was Twig, Ragnheiðr, and Kindle, all fine prospects, but his heart always longed for some greater beauty, perhaps a white wolf would stir his fancy and he would have grand painted children with her, and of course, there were always the males. Boys of the same sex who stimulated him in ways a woman never could, but would not result in offspring. Rosmary thought perhaps, if he could father a litter and have a devoted man at his side, he would be content.
“There have been a few.” He told her finally, “All of them would make great and terrible children to behold.” He explained. “Perhaps I will father four in a season” He purred into her fur, although he was just shy of that mark.
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