The Wolf and The Witch

Ch 45: Dreams

Bash POV

Through my life I imagined what my mate would be like.

All wolves do. The idea of our mates are burned into our minds and children and the mate bond comes second only to our sacred duty as wolves.

When I was a pup I imagined she wouldn't be like other girls, whom I thought carried girl only germs that would make me less of a boy at the time. I swore she would be cool and like to climb trees and roll around in the mud with me. She would pretend fight me and we wouldn't spend all our time kissing like other wolves did. But she would be nice too, maybe smile like my mother. She had the best smile to me.

As I got a little older and began to understand my developing body -and that of the girls around me- more, I hoped she wouldn't be like other girls. The ones who hated their own bodies despite the sometimes awkward feelings (and bodily reactions) said bodies caused. I hoped she would be kind incase my voice cracked when we met, the nerves of adolescences making me want to appear manly although at that age, no ones grown into themselves yet. She would be strong, like both my parents had been, but soft. Kind. Other boys wanted their mates with big chests and saucy smiles.

Other boys didn't feel the loss that I had.

They still had their mothers to hug them and tell them they would be okay.

Their fathers were not slowly dying.

I could only, secretly, hope my mate would have a comforting touch. And being the pup I was, I hoped there would be kissing a lot of kissing.

As a moronic teenager who refused to be called a pup any longer (although I certainly still was) I found myself discovering my taste in women and exploring the nature of sex. I hoped she would have that soft skin all women seemed to innately posses but were utterly unaware of. I knew by then that some part of me had a thing for a girl with an innocent face and wide eyes. I hoped she wouldn't be like the girls who I had been with, somehow ashamed of their bodies yet claiming to be comfortable with sex.

I loved women.

Their soft skin.

Their pretty smiles.

Their silken hair.

The delicate way they smelled, alway like something clean and sometimes sweet.

The way the walked.

The parts of them they kept hidden beneath their clothes.

As a wolf, you are used to nudity in a practical sense for shifting.

But after I saw a woman nude in an intimate setting the first time... I completely fell in love with the female form.

Even wolves were soft and supple.

Something about women just beckoned to me.

I hoped my mate would allow me to adore everything female about her for as long as she lived.

Even then I knew the fascination wasn't temporary. I would never grow tired of what made them different from men.

I loved everything about them and at that age, they all seemed to certainly adore me too. So how could my mate not be like that.