Wolf hated Kipo.
She had no idea why she decided to help the burrow girl find her way back home. The only reason she'd survived so far was because she was determined not to risk her life for someone else. Staying alone ensured her safety, and she'd stupidly enough thrown it away. And for what? A stranger? She asked herself if she was suicidal, but she didn't believe she was. Yet, why was she sticking her neck out for someone that she couldn't care less about?
Maybe it was because she did care. Maybe it was because Kipo was just as vulnerable as Wolf herself had been five years ago. Maybe it was because Wolf recognized the way Kipo's eyes lit up in awe and adoration every time she saw more of what the surface had to offer. Wolf had spent half of her life forcing herself not to feel anything, to move through the world on steady legs while her heart wanted nothing more than to settle down and just be. For some reason, Kipo had cracked the armor that Wolf built around her heart. Kipo showed her that it was okay to feel, to make mistakes and act silly sometimed. It frightened her. It frightened her how naive Kipo was.
Wolf couldn't watch someone else go through what she had been through. She wasn't heartless. She wasn't a monster like them. All she wanted to do was to protect the terrified little girl in her. The same little girl that Kipo reminded her of. Kipo was loud, curious, talkative, clumsy, innocent and oblivious to the world's dangers and injustices — much like Wolf had been before the wolves made an example out of her.
Wolf protected Kipo the same way she wished she'd been protected. Kipo didn't deserve to find out the cruelness of the world. Not alone. Their steady attachment allowed Kipo to dig her claws into Wolf's heart, to bring out the child that only ever wanted a friend. Wolf wanted to stop it, but she couldn't. She hated it and she hated Kipo. The burrow girl reminded her all too much of the part of herself she fought to bury.