late for the love of my life

The elder wolf had an easy comeback, insisting that maybe it was Desolate who did not belong. His brows furrowed, and his gaze tore off her face as he considered her words. After a beat, he looked back at her. "I live here..." He responded, though his words came out as if he was unsure about the statement. He'd heard that elders were wise, maybe she was right! This was Abaven's land, right?

Bewildered, the pup sat upon the grass. "I live with Theory, she's my cousin." He insisted. The more he talked, the more uncertain he sounded. "Who are you?" Suspicion reached his eyes, and he frowned over at her as if she might be a ghost sent her to mess with his head. The elder wolf seemed incredibly relaxed for a potential-ghost, and he watched her uneasily as she molded the dirt between her paws. Abaven's dirt. His dirt. Or, was it her dirt?