Hit the showers

Widow Klein.

Stolas still couldn't quite grasp the reality that he had once again stumbled upon the young woman he had met many moons ago at that hick carnival. Though it had been ages, the young wolf had a very good memory. He remembered that day well—sharing treats with her, lamenting about their gawky heights and lanky limbs, and carefully watching out for Widow's hungry scavenger of a companion. But he hadn't thought he'd see the girl again after that day, when she seemingly vanished from his life. Sure, he knew she lived in Habari, since she'd told him as much, but being restricted to the Empire's lands made it nigh impossible for the young demi-prince to make the journey to go see her. In time, he'd thrown himself into his studies, and in time, he'd just put that pleasant memory on a shelf in the archives of his mind, revisiting it every so often in the occasional pleasant dreams he'd have.

But now, she was here. She was here and he had attacked her. Oh gods, he'd made a fool of himself with that decision! Embarrassed ears folded flat to the tall yearling's dark forehead while heat still simmered beneath his cheeks, head held low while he skulked his way toward one of the calmer offshoots of the Rio Grande so he could clean up his pelt, still covered in dust and dirt and straw from their scuffle in the barn. With Nocturne at his side and Orion flitting through the branches of the trees overhead, the large, athletically-built lad walked towards the banks of a slower, calmer part of the massive river, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder to see if Widow was still following him. "I'm sorry I attacked you," he apologized again for what felt like the umpteenth time since he'd realized who he was fighting back in the barn. "I, uh... wasn't really expecting to run into anyone, let alone you again." Was that the right answer? Was that even a good answer? Stolas wasn't exactly well versed in apologizing to girls for jumping them in wild lands.

"Stolas Abraxas-Destruction"