Day Fifty-Seven

I offered my blood to Beast today, but before I could make the cut, he took my hands. He said my name, and our eyes met. There was this calmness in his blue eyes, and he said that this is not the first year the wolves have acted up, that my help was not needed. I wish I could believe him, but he's been on edge and so shaky. And he's tired. Really tired. Just because he's used to suffrage, does not mean he should have to endure it. I offered myself up willingly, and he still refused. I don't know if this is an act of chivalry or just plain foolishness.