if i had a heart [open]

Flick wasn't thrilled to have been woken up far too early for her liking, only to be told she could go back to sleep. She knew it was the nature of the beast, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Even though she'd been given the green light to go back to sleep, she had only managed to achieve tossing and turning in her nest. At last, she rose to her paws and shook herself out with a somewhat disgruntled expression. So much for sleeping in today. She stalked out of the den with her blue eyes downcast. Maybe if she managed to get some fresh air, she'd be in a better mood.

...But, then again, maybe pigs would fly. She curled up somewhere out of the way, burying her nose into her flank as she tried to ignore the goings on around her. The camp provided some protection from the elements. Thankfully, it was just enough protection that she didn't feel as if she was overheating. She felt comfortable in her own skin, which was a rarity in itself. She looked more like a wolf than a hybrid, but she felt every bit of the warmth her mother's lineage provided, especially when she didn't want or need it. It was often a pain, but she never complained.

She could have been born one of those hairless ankle biters whose sole purpose in life seemed to be getting carried around in someone's purse and even stepped on. She no longer felt the pull to laugh at them. After a while, it had ceased being funny and bordered onto the territory of pathetic. She breathed out a heavy sigh and flicked her right ear. She knew if her father caught her napping, he'd probably nip at her until she got moving around. Luckily for her, her father was otherwise predisposed with pack matters. Considering he was an elder and fast approaching his last days, she didn't understand why he still felt the need to prove himself.

Pride was such a fickle thing, and it'd likely get him killed in the future. Even when he'd been younger, he'd been a stubborn dog who would have cut off his own nose to spite his face. She knew better than anyone that she'd likely inherited his stubbornness if nothing else. She wasn't ever sure how to feel about it, but she managed well enough without the continued guiding paw that her father had once provided. Those days had been so much simpler than what she was currently going through. Now, she had responsibilities and examples to set. It wasn't like she could abandon her cares at the drop of a pin or even pretend that she was still some lively pup who didn't have a thing to worry about, including where her next meal was coming from.

Slowly (and almost reluctantly), she uncurled herself from her tight ball and stretched her forelegs out in front of her with a wide yawn. Once the joints had made a satisfactory pop, she dropped her head between her paws and heaved out a sigh. She had given so much to the pack and had asked for so little. Her selflessness was beginning to show, too. Most canines her age had found some way to settle down and, here she was, taking naps and mentally preparing herself for the next task she had to carry out. Her entire existence revolved around how she could better serve the pack that she'd been born into. Maybe she had learned a little too much from her father.