pale eyes & drunken lies

Perched in the willow tree’s branches, Aster watched the heavy wolf approach the base of her lookout spot. Based on the glassy whiteness of his eyes and his slow ambling gait, she guessed he was blind. So a wolf belonging to one of those ‘packs’ or ‘bands,’ then, because she doubted a blind loner would look so clean and healthy. Then he might be a friendly sort?

“Hello!” Aster shrieked. She stayed still; even if he was blind, she wasn’t willing to fly down within his reach. Predators puffed out her crest—made her nervous. “The name’s Aster. You seem to be… looking for something? What are you doing here? You already passed a lot of clean water, so I guess you’re not thirsty. There’s a lot of flowers, though, so maybe you’re looking for a particular floral aroma to seduce the love of your life?”