Carry Me, Carry Me, Carry Me Now

The call had come. Cormalin and Obsidian had been lounging, in his case, and grazing on new shoots in the case of the horse. He had grudgingly relaxed under her constant overtures of friendship, and the grudging relaxation had eventually turned to genuine affection. Her perky, optimistic nature, and fiery spirit were hard not to like. If only she had been born a wolf. Or even a dog. She would have been a wonderful mate. She reminded him a great deal of his late mate, Akana.

There was one problem, however? How would a horse fit into the ranks and life of a wolf pack? He stood and wandered over, but she was already trotting toward the call. He followed with a sigh. He was about to find out what rank a wolf would give a horse.

He stepped into the gathering, just as an overpowering smell of female need swept over his nose. Was that Erani? He spotted her, heard her call out that she wished to keep her rank as Lead Healer. She looked? Tired. Restless, unsettled. Grumpy. That wasn?t an emotion he usually saw on her. Then again, he?d come to understand that she had not come into heat once in all the time Valhalla had known her. Was this as much of a surprise to the others as it was so obviously to her?

He was pleased, however, when a truly massive male, black as himself, though sporting eyes both a deep, rich gold, went to sit beside her, and when Cormalin saw the beginnings of a snarl fade instantly into a shy smile to the massive one, his hopes for her rose. The male was handsome, didn?t crowd her despite her obvious heat, and yet seemed to like her a great deal. This brought a glad smile to his muzzle.

He turned his attention to Collision, and lifted his voice. ?I would add my training as a Warrior to your ranks. To protect and cherish, even if it means giving my life.? Steadfast, gentle, honorable. Then he glanced up at Obsidian.

What would become of his friend?