The Stars Are My Chandelier

Misha would look at the male when he would begin speaking about his childhood. He seemed like the type of wolf who had experienced not the best childhoo, and one who didn't like speaking about it much. "Well, that's good. I slept in my dead parent's den for about a half and a year.." she would say, sort of looking at the ground in shame. The small fae would sigh and rest her head on top of her paws, running through her thoughts. That was the first time she had ever told anyone about that part of her childhood. The one that had hurt the most.. The one who made part of her today.