The other girls in the pack were boring and were beginning to get on his nerves. They were noisy and irritating and instead of trying to take care of things for themselves, they expected him to get involved in their stupid territorial squabbles.
This last time they were annoyed because Whitetip had run one of them out an amazing nesting place because she wanted it. Since Whitetip was the one who was laying his eggs, he saw no reason why shouldn’t have whatever nest she wanted. Taking a nest from one of the others was actually something that he was proud of her for doing. After all, they had been rude to his mate just because she was new and he took great delight in the fact that Whitetip was strong enough now that she didn’t need to rely on his protection.
When the sun went down and the desert started to cool, Bluebrow made his way to Whitetip’s nest and poked his head in, pushing at her with his snout and then his teeth. She returned his affection with a snip of her own and exited the nest to stand beside him.
They were the King and Queen of this land and every place that the moonlight touched was part of the kingdom that belonged to them.
Making sure that his mate was with him, Bluebrow took off from the pack’s home and was a dark shadow against the sand dunes. Whitetip was the only one who could keep up with his speed and he would miss their nightly hunts when the eggs hatched.
Oh well. The chicks that hatched would make him a father and he and Whitetip would create a new, stronger pack. That was an important thing in their world. It would be just one more thing that he accomplished that Broken Hand had never been able to.
Then, when the pack was full and strong again, Bluebrow would have his mate all to himself again.