For the Love of Poem

She inspected the man carefully. He was big. And strong. If worst came to worst, Theory still thought she could take him - especially if she was able to call for reinforcements. In fact, she was so caught up in assessing him as a possible threat that he caught her completely off guard when he spoke. "O-oh," she said, her brow furrowed. The young alpha tried to take a mental inventory of the eligible females in the pack, conveniently forgetting about herself and her sisters. Uh, Eulogy? Rhythm...? Internally she balked, resisting the urge to laugh aloud. Finally he declared the object of his affections and her world ground to a halt. Birds may have been singing but she didn't hear them. The sun was shining but she didn't feel it.

"I am Theory, alpha of Abaven. And Poem is my sister," Theory said haltingly. "And very precious to me. Who are you, exactly, Sparhawk?" And what makes you worthy of her love? She knew the depths of Poem's love. It was vast and warm and wonderful; the kind of love that could envelope you entirely. Her love was synonymous with safety and home. This love was what made Abaven so special. She wouldn't grant her blessing lightly. In fact, Theo felt oddly possessive over her sister. Simply put: it had never occurred to her that one day she might have to share that love. Motif and Poem and Theory had spent so long tucked into a sisterly bubble and now here was the first man come along, ready to (possibly, maybe) ruin everything.