A crowd of wolves unknown to him — a blend of scents that overwhelmed his senses.

The Oni’s tongue drags roughly over his jowls in displeasure as he slowly slinks away from the wedding’s growing assembly. For diplomacy sake in the name of the Dynasty, he would not become nasty with anyone who tread too close towards him and remained neutral. Appeared neutral. Ruitō would not pretend to like these foreigners just because he tread their land. If it was up to him, he’d be at home amongst his own wolves.

Yet the woman he needed to protect was here. He had no choice but to follow along — lest something happen to her. He wouldn’t forgive himself if it did.

He dragged the thigh of a doe from the celebration’s food caches, taking it with him towards the spot where his master lied. Releasing it from his jowls and placing it before her.

Have you eaten, lady Yume?

Lady Yume….

In the past, when he rarely reached adolescence, it was Yume-chan. Perhaps duty and recognition of his station slowly changed that. Maybe even maturity was to blame, as he couldn’t possibly picture himself calling her such an embarrassing thing.

What hadn’t changed, however, was the way his shoulders relaxed in her presence. Or how his usually sharp gaze softened with comfort.

His crimson gaze sought her own, awaiting an answer.

Something tells me you have not….