Work Text:
She-Wolf has no name, no sense of self -
Or not, at least, one like her mother, an elf.
Timmorn the Yellow-Eyed, father and chief,
Has tapped her as heir and left like a thief.
She, the Omega, content simply to follow,
Now struggles to lead with a self that is hollow.
For others to follow one must be willing to lead
And She-Wolf is far too ready to concede.
There are others who feel as chief they’d do better
While She-Wolf feels chief-ship tight as a fetter.
There is strife in the pack and no one feels settled;
Hackles stay raised and feelings stay nettled.
What does she lack that will help her to lead?
Deep inside She-Wolf goes - and finds what she needs.
She-Wolf has a name and a sense of “me.”
I am Wolfsong. I am Starsong. I am Rahnee.