Lettie knew something was tickling her senses at the moment but it didn't raise her hackles so she ignored it. She had beat the whole quite a bit larger by the time she bothered to pull herself from her thoughts and register the smell wafting in from the open door.
James, she really should have known. She would know the scent of her packmate anywhere. James was probably the person she was closest too now in the wake of it all, now that so many had been lost. They always seemed to be at odds with each other but the rare times they weren't Lettie appreciated his company.
His words echoed through her head and she just felt like crying. The sledgehammer dropped to hang loose in one hand at her side, eyes still glued to the hole she was making. If it were a bit bigger that might be a good representation of the gaping wound she felt in her chest when she thought about her family that had been lost.
She let the hammer fall the inch to the floor is standing on the top with little trouble. When Lettie turned to see that handsome face her own had tears in her eyes that she refused to let fall in front of anyone and especially James. "I just hope it is good enough. I have a very fat wolf in my head I am fighting against." Those closest to Lettie would get what she meant. The old Cherokee Legend of the grandfather's story to his grandson about the two wolves that warred inside him for control. One wolf evil and was made of anger, resentment, self-pity, sorrow and so many more negative emotions, while the other wolf was good and was made of joy, compassion, faith, love, generosity, and so much more. When asked who would win the grandfather would tell his grandson the one I feed. Lettie felt like that evil little fucker inside her was gorging on her pain.
She pulled off her gloves sitting them aside and took the bottle of water from him. "Thanks, I would have prefered a beer but this will do."