Birds of a Feather

The other girl looked stunned and a little taken aback when Satira came charging back up to her, and yeah she probably was being a bit brash with how she went about it, but she just had to know. She needed this little bit of real validation after all the setbacks and insecurities and uncertainties she'd discovered in her life. But to her surprise, the other girl confessed that she did think her ears were really cute and unique and that she liked them. Tira's mouth nearly dropped open in shock, but instead her haunches just hit the ground instead, leaving the smaller girl reeling in stupor. She thought of all the sideways looks she'd gotten from some of the members of the Armada, of the way her brother teased her, and how that red bully had mocked her for her ears. How she'd been called half a wolf and a mutant. But now... this girl said she was cute and she loved that they were different. Tira could have cried.

The tawny yearling didn't, however. She kept herself in check, her emotions reined in, but she certainly couldn't help the little shy smile creeping across her tiny muzzle. "W-Well, um... th-thank you, Azzurra. I really appreciate it," she replied, trying to ignore the way heat was starting to spread beneath her pallid cheeks. She noted the tiny wagging pom at the end of Azzurra's hindquarters and gave the girl a little bit of a cheeky smile, pointing towards her tail with a paw. "Your tail is really cute too. I've never seen another wolf with a tail like yours." Satira's smile faltered a bit when she realized she was basically implying that she was looking at the other girl's ass, and raised a paw with a panicked look on her face. "Not that I was checking out your butt or anything like that! I just saw your tail wagging and thought it looked cute. Your butt just happens to be what it's attached to!" Tira cringed at herself, the heat in her face getting worse with every word she sputtered out.

Azzurra asked with concern why anyone would think she was a freak because of her ears and Satira's shoulders slumped. Her own heritage was something that she tried her best to be proud of—but sometimes that felt like a Sisyphean task. Frowning to herself, Tira turned and moved to sit at the edge of the mountain path with a sigh, gazing down at the coniferous forest around the fjord. "Because I'm... not a pure wolf," she admitted. Be proud of your heritage. Be proud of your heritage. "My dad's part dog. It's where our ears come from. He has a pair just like mine." Tira reached up to flick one floppy ear with a white and gray speckled paw. "I guess some wolves think that if you're even a little bit not perfect, then you're worthless..." It hurt to say out loud, but it was what that boy's words in the winter forest had made her feel all those months ago. She'd never fully recovered; sometimes she doubted if she ever would.

"Satira"