They Call Me Spitfire

He found the scent of her on his border patrol, and the point where she crossed from Armada into rogue was startlingly obvious. At first, he almost could not believe it, he would not. She would not break his trust so soon after he had given it. He would give her the world, any lessons she asked, all the play and love she could handle. He gave her truth, stark and bare, because he trusted her with it. He trusted her the most of the litter, for he felt deep in his bones that she was like him, and she would understand him as they did not.

But the evidence was there, and he could not ignore it, and so he was forced to face it, heart heavy, and bitterness on his tongue. He was not a happy wolf, and his possessive, angry streak began to show as his eyes darkened.

Sirius crossed the border just far enough to see Asla, and for her to see him. He found her by scent before eyes, for she had found a subtle place to crouch in. He stopped there, watching her. He said nothing, but the sheer disappointment on his expression was enough to fill sentences as he waited for her to see him.