Nathaniel
When Drakania entered with my father, I don’t think anyone was prepared for the shock of her new appearance. Apparently, my father wanted her to look the part because he had her dressed in tight leather clothes dyed to our pack’s colors. She looked like a hunter, her hair braided behind her, tall boots. I think everyone was drooling over her beautiful curves.
“What do you think?” she asked me, sitting down with a plate of food.
“What was wrong with your dresses? You looked regal,” pouted Newt. He had made most of her wardrobe.
“She looked like a Queen, not a Luna,” my father said. I could tell something was off about him.
“It’s not very easy to run in dresses. I prefer trousers and blouses anyway.” Her sharp teeth bit into a chicken thigh.
Devere
