breath of fresh air through smoke rings

“My dad’s got wings too.” He said, more than happy to answer her questions. He was accustomed to people asking him about his wings, but he was social enough that the shine of answering hadn’t worn off yet. He grinned at the white wolf. “None of my other siblings inherited it, and his parents didn’t have wings.” He said, anticipating those might be her next questions.

She ran a paw through his feathers, tickling them. He giggled at the sensation. ‘If you find a loose one, you can keep it.” Just so long as she didn’t go plucking any! “Yeah? You should come by sometime. I sell honey treats when I have time.”

"Wylan Fatalis"