Flare

Flare knew that Hiyotte outshined him.
Why wouldn't she? The wildclaw was only slightly older than he was, yet she was talented in so many different ways.
She was a strategist, a warrior and a wolf-speaker, for Stormcatcher's sake.
Hiyotte was an Alpha, and he, just a Beta.
It would take time, Flare knew, but he would rise to that position eventually.
They had arrived in that clan at around the same time, both still young hatchlings.
They were trained to defend it with their lives.
Hiyotte, at least, understood this duty.
Flare did as well, just that he was always unsure.
Which must have been why he was still a Beta.
At least the wolves that were constantly by her side knew that he loved her.
One of them had even taken to following him in a friendly way, its fur as black as the shade in the Shadowbinder's domain, capable of blending in with the dark, stormy weather that was ever present in the Shifting Expanse.
He hoped that she still loved him too.
Flare couldn't stop worrying that she was too good for him, and that he was just another wildclaw with a colouration similar to hers, who had only been picked because of sheer, dumb luck.
He did try to prove it, though, joining the hunters and warriors when they went about their respective jobs.
He wasn't half bad in the coliseum, either.
And although his hunting skills were up to par, he just didn't know if he was worthy of her.
Flare hoped he was.
He really did.
(by shanncrafter)