#avalanchiing

@avalanchiing Catalyst watched nervously, staying mostly the doorway shadows as Lance awoke to find the puppy. The mix had been the most bashful at the shelter and the smallest. So of course that was the one Catalyst had selected : the tiniest runt ever. Totally not a psychological projection. The pup had been microchipped with a special design courtesy of Hank McCoy that would let them know via a phone app of it was her or Mystique. Cat had taken several other precautions with her as well backup arguments, pointing out he was the one that fixed this hell hole into a livable house, team moral, et cetera. " You are right Lance, there IS a dog here. I hope you like your daughter." Catalyst responded picking up the dog and sitting on the bed beside Lance. Hand reaching out to smooth down a few of those unruly cowlicks.

@avalanchiing There was one of him, and easily nine or more of them. Him being the boy that had wandered into their woods, trespassed on their territory, and then had the gall to change and hunt there last night. “Did you think you wouldn’t be found?!” demanded one of the women, “You left your scent all over the place, clumsy brat!” Indeed he had. It was how they had come to find him here this morning, after his transformation back to human, curled among the leaves, clad in nothing but scratches from the night before. They had circled around him, as real wolves do around their prey. “Don’t you know who’s woods these are?” said one of the men as they got closer. He sounded eager rather than angry. One got the sense that if he’d been in wolf form, he’d have been salivating. “Perhaps he doesn’t,” said another man, and his voice was not angry or bloodthirsty as the others. He was the farthest back, and the center of their circle, directly across from the boy. He was tall, with long red hair bearing two gray streaks. He approached, and the others parted around him, stepping back from him even when he wasn’t close to them. When he reached the boy, he crouched down, and put a hand out. “You had no idea what you were doing, did you? Look at you. You’re my son’s age. This might be your first change. Is it? You didn’t know you were in anybody else’s land, did you?” His tone suggested not that he was actually asking the boy this, but that he was assuming it already was the case, that he’d had no idea, that he was innocent, that he was new, that he wasn’t in trouble. “My name is Fabian Cortez,” he said in the same easy, kindly, calm tone, “This is my pack, and they’re a little upset---we do have good reason for not wanting strange wolves here---but it’s going to be fine. I don’t think there was any harm done. What’s your name, son? You’re among friends---even if it probably doesn’t seem like it right now.”