No Shame in This Walk

Be it as it may, she had spent more of her life in servitude then out of it. There would always be wolves that saw her for what she had been raised. A slave. Someone to use, to mount, to hurt and cast away. But not Artorias, and not Briar. They seemed so determined to see her as something else, and she loved them for it. Even if she wasn’t entirely certain she could be what they needed her to be. “And it’s my honour to serve the both of you however you need.” she said, equally as gentle.

’But that's not the whole truth, is it?’ the words rung through her, filling her with shame. So he did know, Briar must have told him. He didn’t seem to look at her any differently. She belonged to him, him and Briar. They were training her to hold her ground,a dn she had folded at the first brush of resistance. Then she frowned, as he told her he wished to know. He didn’t know then? He was simply fishing?

She sighed, testing the stew for heat, and pulling it from the flames. Banking the fire so she didn’t have to worry about it. Buying herself a moment of time to think. “There was an incident, but it wasn’t an Armada wolf. I… I left the pack grounds” She paused there, giving him room to rebuke her for the move if he wished to. “And a wolf recognised me for a slave, and chose to have his way with me.” she did not meet his eyes. She was far too busy covering the already covered ashes of the fire. “I… I know that you and Briar have been trying to train me, but.” she fought the urge to shrug, a gesture that definitely would have gotten her a beating in the past. “I folded. It is what it is.” She said briskly, and grabbed his stew, bringing to him still without lifting her gaze.