Camp Life

Large, emerald eyes watched the man painted in black and gold. She studied him, searched for something in his expression. She found nothing but a calm gaze, as he waited for her to continue. Everything was a reminder of how little she knew these days, including him. March couldn't recognise anything as he returned her steady gaze, and it was the fact she didn't know if she should that bothered her. She tried to use these feelings to fuel her fire, her ambition and her determination, but some days it did nothing but smother it, and some days she wanted nothing but to return to that den and resume her withering away.

She was never the sociable type. The pause was long and awkward, as her thoughts circled endlessly. It was clear in the way she spoke that here she was unsure of herself, of where to put her paws and what words to use, how her delivery should sound and how much respect she should display, whether she would be seen as a delinquent or a teacher's pet. She started slowly and simply. "I, uh, I understand that you were away from the pack for some months." Maybe an understatement, maybe the truth. Maybe it was all her own doing. "I don't really... know you. I should." Her words were limited by her own ineptitude, formality and a clumsy dance around difficult matters. "What kind of wolf are you?"