ᎯᎷᎯᎽᎷᎾᏁ

“α ω⊕mαη'š ωrα†h ïš η⊕†hïηg ïƒ η⊕† ïmm⊕r†αﾚ.” ★·.·⍣·.·★.· ρяιиςε σf нεll ★·.·⍣·.·★.·) ʅɪоɲєƨƨ оƒ ɯɾʌէɦ

sit by his side, head tilted this way and that before she leaned over him, pressing a gentle hand to his snout. “My home. My name is Amaymon. How are you feeling?”

Amaymon looked up from where she stirred a hearty smelling stew, blinking as she heard a noise. He fretted in his sleep, the wolf. She was so unaccustomed to having people over that his noises almost startled her. When he woke, she stood, crossing wooden floors on bare feet to

Amaymon stood over the wolf with a shake of her head before stooping down, hands gently slipping under him to lift. She carried him to her home, to safety, where she cared for him, cleaned him, and prepared food for him when he woke. She would later scold him for recklessness.

𝘚𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺~ #𝘚𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺

something she would relish in, because he was right—Amaymon would crumble entire nations for Baskerville. All he need do. . .is ask.

ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃᵍᵃᶦⁿ. . .” Amaymon would happily go anywhere with him. To the human world where they could live in the mountains, or deep in the forest. She would even live in the city if he wanted, though she very much doubted that. Or, she could kill those who oppressed him,

overwhelming sense, one that drove her to near madness. But she respected him and his strength, and never wanted to embarrass him. Her poor old hound had it hard enough. “ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ, ᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵈᵒ ᶦˢ ᵃˢᵏ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᶦˡˡ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳ ᵗᵒ

that she was his reason made her cold heart flutter, had her fingers reaching for his face. His scars and wounds had not gone unnoticed. She saw more of him than anyone else, besides those that “trained” with him. Her desire to cull those that hurt him was sometimes an

ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ?” Her worst fear now spoken, she climbed from him in a graceful catlike movement, wanting to see his face when he answered. He said he needed her here, to give him a reason. What if he was hers? What if he was what kept her here? But to know

tongue. Bask always had a reason to his madness, even if the reason was mad itself. A part of her understood his refusal, a bigger part of her made her swallow the ball of nerves that had appeared her her throat and made her ask a question born of dread. “ᴬⁿᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᶦᶠ

For a moment, Amaymon was silent. Baskerville had never told her no, nor had he ever used that tone with her. Her brow furrowed, but she found she wasn't angry in the slightest. Instead she was concerned if anything. Had it been anyone else, they would already be missing their

the globes of her ass made her warm and fuzzy. A little huff of air came from her nose as she half scoffed, half laughed at herself—he was right, she was getting soft. “ᴵᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᴵ’ᵐ ᵈᵒᶦⁿᵍ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ.”

anxiety. The idea that he could one day not return made her vocalize. “ᴵ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵍᵒ ʷᶦᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ.” She sounded insane. 𝐻𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑒. She had never felt the way she did for him, for anyone. Even just the simple action of holding her to him by

fur of his neck. Such a feline she was, marking him with her scent as she drenched him in natural-born affection. 𝑶𝒉, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝑰'𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅. The idea that he could leave for a job at any moment gave her

There was nothing Baskerville could do to make Amaymon change her mind. Bask could rip her throat out with his very teeth and she would have assumed he had a good reason. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. She answered him with another soft hum as she pressed her face into the