“Stop wiggling! I’m trying to make you look like the Mona Lisa, not a Picasso.” I huffed, doing my best to sit still as Myra dabbed foundation all over my face.
“Why are you trying to make me look like old art at all?” I grumbled. I’d never cared for makeup, not in either of my lives. And not because of any superficial, cool reason like “I like to feel nature on my skin.” I just suck at it, and I always feel like I look like a little kid who got into her mother’s makeup when I wear it.
Still. Mrya had been very firm that I was to wear makeup put on by her and a pretty dress also picked by her. I didn’t care either way, so why not let her get her way? Without her, I wouldn’t have ever found a group of wolves my own age in this pack, so I owed her a makeover or two.
“Cause we want you t
