Mischief maker

Her adventure came to a grounding halt when she heard Oleander's voice. She had no idea who he was talking to, but it was clear who he was talking about. She didn’t bother trying to slink away. Hiding and running were always bad ideas. There were too many wolves that enjoyed that sort of thing. She had learned quickly not to give them what they wanted.

“I’m here” she called out softly, moving into Oleander’s view. Had he discovered that she had riled through his things, or that Wilder had helped her swipe a bottle of alcohol? She had no idea how much freedom she was actually allowed either. But in the face of Oleander’s very sudden disappearance, she hadn’t quite been able to help herself. She looked at his toes, prepared to face whatever trouble she might be in. “I’m sorry you had to look for me, My Lord.”


"Speech"