He leaned down to nibble an itch on his foreleg. Then he sat up, shook himself all over, and asked, What will you do for a mate now?
Not all wolves take mates.
The leader always does. How else would the pack multiply?
My leader has a mate, and she is with child. Perhaps wolves have it aright, and men should pay attention. Perhaps only the leader should mate. That was the decision that Heart of the Pack made long ago. That he could not have both a mate, and a leader he followed with all of his heart.
That one is more wolf than he cares to admit. To anyone. A pause. Gingerbread?
I gave it to him. He gobbled it greedily while I watched.
I’ve missed your dreams at night.
They are not my dreams. They are my life. You are welcome to them, so long as Heart of the Pack does not get angry with us. Life shared is better. A pause. You would rather have shared the female’s life.
It is my weakness to want too much.
He blinked his deep eyes. You love too many. My life is much simpler.
He loved only me.
That is true. The only real difficulty I have is knowing that you will never trust that is so.
I sighed heavily. Nighteyes sneezed suddenly, then shook himself all over. I mislike this mouse dust. But before I go, use your so clever hands to scratch inside my ears. It is hard for me to do well without leaving welts.
And so I scratched his ears, and under his throat and the back of his neck, until he fell over on his side like a puppy.
“Hound,” I told him affectionately.
For that insult, you pay! He flipped himself up onto his feet, bit me hard through my sleeve, and then darted out the door and was gone. I pulled back my sleeve to survey the deep white dents in my flesh that were not quite bleeding. Wolf humor.