The Black Wolf
His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned his head against my shoulder, breathing out slowly.
“I just hope that after you see it all, you won’t hate me,” he murmured.
“I won’t,” I promised, threading my fingers through his hair, holding him close.
Even as fear whispered its doubts in the back of my mind. I chose to believe in us.
We sat there speaking in soft murmurs about little nothings, sunlight through mist, the way Siora steals pancakes, the strange comfort of being surrounded by magic and uncertainty. It almost felt normal.
Until the door banged open. The fairy zipped through the entrance like a spark, and just behind her, Siora stumbled clumsily inside, her bag bursting open as fruits scat
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